It's the End Of the Line, Kid
by WritePassion
Summary: While Michael is still undercover, selling his freedom to pay his way out of the CIA, a ghost from the team's past comes calling. He offers Sam and Jesse a job, and because Fiona's life is at stake, they can't refuse. With Dead Larry involved, you know it can't be good!
1. Chapter 1

_Burn Notice: I don't own, it, I just like to play with it._

**It's the End Of the Line, Kid**

By WritePassion

She could have kicked herself for not calling ahead to have the limo driver take her to the art museum. If Miami traffic didn't cooperate, she would be more than fashionably late, so Elsa was moving as quick as her stiletto heels would allow. Each footfall echoed off the concrete parking structure attached to the hotel. Tires squealed from below, and a sense of annoyance tugged at her. If that was Tommy racing one of her customers' cars again…. A sound to the right perked up her ears. Someone was walking with solid steps that seemed to be coming her way. Ever since Sam returned home from being on the run, common noises like that put her on alert.

Elsa shifted the keys in her hand and prepared to strike out if necessary. Sam had tried to convince her to carry a gun, but despite his comfort with them, they scared her. Instead, he showed her a few moves and tricks to protect herself. Reaching out to place one hand on the driver's side door and her other hand holding the keys ready to lash out, Elsa felt less than prepared despite everything Sam taught her.

"Hi, there," the older man said with a grin that reminded Elsa of an alligator, and his eyes held the same cold look as one of those reptiles just before it snapped its jaws over its prey. He knew she was afraid, and his grin widened. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything to you. I just need your help."

"My help?" Elsa studied him from head to toe but didn't let down her guard, despite the fact that he wore a designer suit, a tailored shirt, and fine imported shoes, and spoke in such a charming tone.

"Yeah, I, uh, I'm having trouble with my car." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "It won't start."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. If you go into the hotel, someone will be able to assist you." Elsa's fingers curled under the door handle. If he took one step closer she would swipe at him with the keys and slip inside the vehicle before he could recover.

He took the step she was dreading and Elsa pulled on the handle. How he got close so fast, pressing her into the side of the car, she didn't know. She tried to maintain her composure, but his weight threatened to squeeze the air from her lungs.

"Leave me alone!" She protested and ground her heel into the instep of his expensive shoes, but it didn't seem to bother him. A sharp, cold blade pressed against her jugular, and she stopped squirming. "Please, just take my purse and leave me alone. Hell, you can have my car. Just… just don't hurt me." How she managed to speak without her voice shaking was a mystery, because her entire body vibrated with fear.

The man laughed and took a step back, and the knife blade clicked into its handle as he released her. "Like I said, I don't wanna hurt you. I just need some information."

Elsa's body hugged the side of the car and she pressed her back into it as she turned to face her attacker. She wanted to get a good look at him in case she had to identify him in a lineup later. That is, if she survived. The man looked like he had murder written in his eyes. "What do you want," she found the words to ask.

"I know you're Sam Axe's girlfriend. Elsa, right?" He nodded and said, "I'm Larry. Larry Sizemore. Michael Westen and I go way back."

She hesitated a beat before responding. "You're a friend of Michael's? I find that hard to believe."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call us friends. We have a unique relationship, and I kinda feel like I'm his mentor, a substitute father figure if you will." He smirked at the disgusted sneer on Elsa's face. "I know Axe is back in town. If Michael is with him somewhere, I'd really like to know."

"I have no idea where he is, and I don't think Sam knows either. He's finished with that life." Every nerve ending in her body sparked and her eyes darted about, looking for an escape. What Sam had told her about Larry scared her, but she always took comfort in the fact that he would never come after them. "I thought you were supposed to be…."

"Dead?" Larry's laughter bounced off the columns and ceiling, and he leaned back, reveling in the circumstance that he alone found humorous. "You know what they say, the rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated. Fiona Glenanne failed to blow me up. Sure, I got a little singed, but after some recovery time I'm all better, as you can see." In his self-absorption and confidence, he did a slow turn with his arms out, showing off his slim build.

Elsa held her tongue, thinking that no doubt Michael and his friends would beg to differ. "Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for an important meeting. I'll tell Sam you're looking for Michael, and can I tell him how to contact you?"

"Don't worry, I'll find him." Larry's eyes were as cold as ice again. "I know he hangs around here a lot." He took a step back and said, "You have a pleasant day, Miz Elsa."

The grin on his face did nothing to put her at ease. Elsa nodded, got into her car and locked the door as soon as she was inside. With her eyes on him, she started it and backed out of the space, not caring if she rolled over his shoes. They must have been steel-toed, because her earlier attempt at crushing his foot didn't work. His hard gaze never left her until she turned and drove down the ramp to the exit, and his attention made goose bumps race up and down her arms. She punched the air conditioning button to turn it off, but it wasn't on, which only made her shiver more.

Her afternoon was ruined now, and her meeting seemed trivial compared to the importance of Larry being alive. Stopped at a light, Elsa looked around to make sure Larry wasn't following her. Then she called the museum. "Elayna, this is Elsa. Sorry, I can't talk right now. I just wanted to let you know that I can't make the meeting today. Come to my office tomorrow and we'll recap over lunch, okay? 'Bye." She didn't let the museum director get in a word, because if she did, Elsa was afraid she might blab everything. She needed to go home and talk to Sam. Hopefully he was there.

Elsa walked into the house, dropped her purse on the table in the entryway, and her keys slipped from her hand into its depths. They probably landed in the wrong pocket again, but at the moment she wasn't thinking about that. The encounter with Larry Sizemore still haunted her. Even his name sounded creepy. She couldn't wait to talk to Sam, because he would know what to do and put her at ease. She hoped that she was making a big deal over nothing, but then Larry's words and the way he spoke them haunted her, and she realized that she couldn't deny that this was serious.

Sam lounged poolside, staring at the bay as he mulled over a mojito and a thick file that was propped up on his bent legs. She came around to watch him for a few moments as he wrote furiously on a pad of paper. When he was so focused with his lips pursed and concentration setting his face, he looked downright sexy. The bare legs and the open Hawaiian shirt showing off his tan didn't hurt either. Still shaken by Larry, Elsa forced herself to smile and perched on the edge of the lounger, and she skimmed her hand over his warm shin.

Sam's head shot up and he looked at her with a look of surprise. "Elsa! I... what time is it?" He glanced at his watch lying on the side table. "I wasn't expecting you to be home until five. I thought you had a meeting to go to first." As he spoke he studied her. She tried to appear as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but Sam had a keen sense when it came to her. The corner of her mouth couldn't twitch without him picking up that something was wrong.

"I did, but…."

He closed the folder, set it and the pad of paper on the table to his right, and lay the pen atop it before he leaned forward and took the hand she placed on his knee. "Is everything okay, Baby?"

There was no use trying to hide it. After all, she wanted him to address this, yet deep inside she couldn't help feeling like he was better off not knowing. Elsa let out a deep breath. "I was on my way to the art museum for my meeting. I was leaving the hotel, and in the parking structure I met this man."

Elsa had to take a breath before the sense of terror could overtake her. If she dwelled on it, she could smell Larry's cologne on her suit jacket, which unnerved her. While she composed herself, Sam waited in silence for her to continue. He held her hands and squeezed them in support, urging her to continue.

"He said he wanted to talk to you."

"Me?" Sam's eyebrow rose. "Did he give you his name?"

"He said he was looking for Michael and you were the best lead he had," Elsa continued, the words flowing out of her mouth like an uncontrollable river. "There was this creepy, icy look in his eyes." She met Sam's with her own. "It was like death staring back at me. He terrified me. I was so shaken up, I just said I would pass on the message and hurried to get into my car." She paused and added. "He said he would get in touch with you at the hotel because he knows you hang out there."

Sam kneaded her hands in his, trying to calm her. "Who was he?"

She sniffed and swiped at her eye, leaving a faint streak of mascara. Normally she would have cared, but not at that moment. Taking a calming breath, she said, "He told me his name was Larry. Larry Sizemore."

That name was like a vacuum sucking all the air out of Sam's lungs. He sat frozen in place, staring at Elsa behind his sunglasses, his hand gripping her arm. Thanks to the late afternoon sun, Elsa could see his wide eyes behind the lenses. She knew it. This Larry fellow was someone terrible and she was probably lucky to have escaped without being harmed.

"Who is he? I know you told me a little about him, but... he seemed like he had a lot of rage under his skin."

Sam came to his senses and caressed her arm as he gave her a placating smile. "It's okay, Baby. He's someone from Mike's past that you don't need to worry about. Excuse me a minute." He released her and got up from the lounger so fast, Elsa teetered sideways and had put out a hand to catch herself.

"Where are you going? Sam!" She called to his retreating back as he tore around the corner of the pool and headed for the house. "Who is this guy?" She jumped to her feet and followed him, but when he was in this state of mind, it wasn't easy to keep up without running.

By the time she found Sam in the study, he was on the phone talking to someone. She realized that it had to be Fiona or Jesse, because Michael was again missing and not communicating with anyone.

"Fi, it's bad. Really bad. Larry's back... yeah, don't ask me how, but he is. Elsa had an encounter with him in the hotel parking garage today." He listened a moment, and his face fell. "Seriously, Fi? I can't believe you. It was because of Larry that you went to prison, have you forgotten that? We've gotta find him and stop him, before... uh, huh. Great, you and Carlos have a blast. Jesse and I'll take care of Larry."

Elsa listened and wondered. She knew that Fiona had been arrested and was well on her way to a lethal injection or life in prison for killing two guards and, supposedly, this Larry guy. She didn't know how Fiona was released from prison, but everything seemed to go downhill from there and her man had to go on the run with his friends. Anger rose up in her. She would not let that happen again. Elsa would do what she had to in order to prevent Sam from getting involved. It was too bad for his friends, but she had to draw the line somewhere before he tipped over the edge and lost her, or worse, his life.

"Fi, please. Do you really want me and Jesse to get the glory for taking out Larry?" As he listened to her, his mouth froze into a grim line. "Fine. Thanks for nothing." Sam ended the call by jamming the off button with his thumb, growled, and ran a hand through his hair.

Elsa approached him, smiling, trying to put him at ease. "What's going on, Sammy?" She enveloped him in her arms and her hand cupped the back of his head as he melted into her. Her fingers buried in his hair and his chin rested on her shoulder as he held her close. The muscles in his forearms were tense like cords wrapped around her upper body, but as she caressed his back with one hand, he relaxed.

"I'm sorry to get you into the middle of this," he mumbled into her collar. "Forget it. Let's just have dinner in tonight. I gave Theresa the night off, but I can whip up something real quick and..."

"Wait a minute," Elsa pulled back and pressed a splayed hand into his chest as her eyes locked on his. "I thought we were going out to eat and heading to the opera afterwards."

"Aw, come on, Baby, you know how I feel about all that caterwauling," Sam teased and smiled, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "I'd much rather spend the evening here with you, snuggled up on the couch watching an old movie. Hey, I'll even put up with a musical. What do you say?"

He should have known better. She could read him like a billboard. "You're afraid for me to be out in public. That's what this is about, isn't it."

"No, it isn't. I just..."

"No, don't lie to me, Sammy!" She broke away and held up a finger to stop him. "I know you too well. This Larry guy has got you spooked, and it sounds like Fiona isn't going to back you up, so now you feel like you're alone." She planted a hand on her hip and muttered, "This is a fine mess Michael left."

"It's not Mike's fault. Larry just... well, he's got this weird fatherly attraction to Mike. Not even blowing him up could shake it, apparently." Sam looked embarrassed for his friend. "The guy's got more than one screw loose, honey, and he already knows where your hotel is. He might even know where you live. I don't want to take the risk of helping him if he hasn't already worked it out." He closed the distance between them and took her arms in his tender hands, and emotion flooded his eyes as he said, "I don't want him to use you to get to me and force me to give up Mike's location."

"Do you know where Michael is? Maybe you can call him, tell him he needs to get back here and clean up his mess."

Sam shook his head. "All I know is he's still in the Dominican Republic. He's gotten deeper with... with this guy. If I can't get Jesse to help, I'm on my own here."

A heavy sigh escaped her. She hated that he kept things from her, but she trusted that he did it for a good reason. Still, that didn't mean she liked it. "If there's anything I can do..."

"No!" The forcefulness of his tone and the look of fear for her in his eyes was enough to make Elsa shake in her stilettos again.

"This Larry Sizemore is really dangerous, isn't he."

"More than you realize." He swallowed. "Elsa, is there any way you can take a trip and get out of town for awhile?"

New fear gripped her as she exclaimed, "He'll know I'm running."

"But if I hold him off, you'll be off his radar. He won't bother with you anymore," Sam said. "I just want to make sure that you're out of the line of fire."

Elsa choked back the fear that his words brought up from inside her. She wracked her brain, going over her calendar in her mind. "I suppose I could go to New York. I've wanted to meet with a designer up there to talk about redecorating some of the suites."

"Good. Excellent," Sam said, a wavering smile crossing his face. He caressed her arm. "Why don't you go get packed, I'll call the airport and have the G7 waiting for you, and you can be there tonight?"

"No, I'm not leaving that fast," Elsa protested. "Surely we can have one night alone before I go?" She was afraid that it might be her last chance if Larry Sizemore was as dangerous as she feared. A caress of his cheek, fingertips raking over his stubble and her thumb settling into the place where his dimple created a small, permanent impression, along with a soft kiss, were all she needed to convince him to relax and let her stay the night.

When he came up for air, Sam whispered, "Okay, first thing tomorrow I want you to go. I'll have your assistant rearrange your schedule, and I'll take care of your meetings myself if I have to."

Elsa laughed, her breath soft against his jaw line. "You've never wanted me to leave you so badly before."

Sam didn't crack a smile as he replied, "I'm doing this for your own safety."

A rush of love surged through her and she held him tighter. "I love you, Sammy. Thank you for being so worried about me."

"I love you too, Elsa." He blinked and added, "If something happened to you... I don't even wanna think about it." He pressed her into his body. "Mike has no idea what he's been missing by keeping Fiona at arm's length. No idea at all." His lips joined with hers, and the electricity and power of his emotions shot through her.

There would be no dinner or a movie that night. Instead, two hungry souls would take in each other's love with a subtle dance of desperation behind the expression of their feelings. And after Elsa fell asleep in his arms, Sam's mind raced, pondering what tomorrow might bring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Larry said he would find Sam, which meant until he made an appearance, Sam would have to keep an eye out for him and be ready for whatever he intended to do. He called Jesse and let him know, and the two agreed to meet at Carlito's that morning before Jesse went to work. Sam was tempted to call Maddie and warn her, but with Fi keeping an eye on Mike's mom, Larry wouldn't dare get near her. No matter how psycho Larry got in regards to killing people, at least there was usually a method to his madness, something he would gain from it. Larry had better ways to get to Mike than through hurting his Mom.

Sam was early, so he ordered some coffee and sat with the paper half shielding him from the morning sun as he sat at their customary table waiting for Jesse. He used the sports section as a screen to peer over and watch the early bird tourists walking, and some getting in a morning run, past the cantina. He should have been out with Elsa running the beach, but after yesterday's encounter, she was already on her way to the airport to get out of town. She made her arrangements to be in New York for a few days, he had all her contact information and coached her on how to conduct herself to prevent from being attacked or nabbed, and he sent Elsa on her way with a tender kiss. She was taking this whole thing better than he would have thought. She was a good partner.

"Morning, Sam," Jesse greeted him as he approached the table.

"Glad you could make it, Jesse. I know your real job is taking a lot of your time these days." Sam motioned for him to sit and folded his paper. "I waited for you before ordering."

"Thanks. It's kind of nice to have a little time for a casual breakfast. I'm usually running out the door, stopping at the coffee shop on the way for a double espresso and a danish, and off I go to work."

Sam chuckled. "Exciting life, huh?"

Jesse shrugged and replied, "Eh, it is what it is, man. So what's up with Larry?"

After placing their orders, Sam relayed in more detail what happened to Elsa the day before. "I don't know what Larry's up to, but I didn't want her around. She's on her way out of town as... as we speak." Sam's eyes focused on a dark suited figure heading down the sidewalk toward them, his shark-like grin leading the way. "Dammit, Larry's coming. Be ready for anything."

"You know it, Sammy." Jesse checked his sidearm, which he kept hidden beneath his gray suit jacket. "Locked and loaded. Personally, I think we should just put down the dog right now..."

"Not in broad daylight with all these people around," Sam hissed. "Besides, I don't believe in killing a man like that, not without good reason."

Larry stopped in front of the table and clapped his hands together in sheer happiness as he surveyed the two. "There you are, Sam. And you brought Jesse along. It's like a freakin' reunion here. I love it! Only Michael and Fiona, the two lovebirds, are missing."

"Fi's busy, and Mike," Jesse answered gruffly and trailed off.

"Ah well, I guess I'll take what I can get for now. I was on my way to the hotel, but you guys made my job easier. This is good. Now we can get down to business that much faster."

"Business? We don't do business with you," Jesse said with a threat in his eyes.

Larry grinned and took a seat without being invited. "Aw, Jesse, you really need to work on that anger management issue. I've done nothing to you, and..." He shook his head. "Never mind. I'm not here about you, Mr. GQ." He turned his head and addressed Sam. "Like I told your lovely girlfriend, Sam, I need to see Michael."

"We don't know where he is," Sam replied and took a sip of his cooling coffee. "He's working for the Agency now, and you know how possessive they are." He narrowed his eyes as he spoke, locking his gaze on Larry, who knew how the CIA worked. He'd been one of them once.

Larry nodded and said, "Well, then I'll have to go to my backup plan. I need your help." Larry's eyes pierced Sam's for a moment before zeroing in on Jesse. "Yours too, Jesse."

Sam crossed his arms and sat back in the chair. "Really. And why would we want to help you?"

"When you hear what I have to tell you, I think you'll jump at the chance." He paused and looked each of them in the eye before revealing his mission in a cool tone. "Fiona and her new boy toy Carlos are in deep trouble. There's an assassin looking for her."

"Really." Sam folded his arms and stared at Larry. "If it's true, Fi's pretty good at taking care of herself." He knew Larry liked to use people who had a place in someone's heart as leverage, and most likely this situation was no different.

Larry grinned again. "I know you don't believe me, guys, but it's true." He slipped a photograph from a pocket inside his suit and slid it across the table to rest between Sam and Jesse. It showed a tall man with red, curly hair and an angry expression on his face glaring at something off camera. "His name is Seamus McFerrin. He's an Irish national who worked with O'Neal and he's finally decided to come to the States and branch out operations. He's gunning for Fiona."

"Anybody who's after Fi has pretty much done the smart thing and left her alone," Jesse said. His brows furrowed in distrust.

"O'Neal wasn't that smart," Sam quipped.

"Yeah, well maybe this guy didn't get the memo," Larry retorted and leaned forward, his elbows perched on the table and his hands folded. "I need your help finding him before he gets to Fiona and Carlos."

"How does Carlos fit into this," Sam asked. "And why do you care about Fi? I would think you'd be glad that someone is coming to kill her." His eyes met Larry's, and the hatred he felt for the man exploded as a thought came to him. "You want that task for yourself, don't you? You can't stand for someone else to do it! You sonofa..."

"Hey, woah, woah, woah!" Larry held up his hands and begged Sam to settle down. "True, I'm not Fiona Glenanne's biggest fan, but I have bigger things to deal with now. My real business is with McFerrin. If you stop him from taking out Fiona, I can get him off your hands and deal with the reasons I want him."

"And those reasons are?" Jesse prompted.

"Nothing you need to know. Let's just say I'm freelancing again, and McFerrin is causing a wrinkle in certain peoples' business. I've been hired to manage that issue."

"Then manage without us." Sam shook his head. "I'm sure the people who hired you wouldn't be too happy knowing you're getting others involved."

"I don't think they care. They just want McFerrin, preferably in a body bag."

"And you want us to find him and flush him out for you." Jesse frowned. "Why?"

"Well, I need someone to act as bait. That would be Fiona. But I know how much you guys like her, so I figured you could keep watch over her and when McFerrin comes out of his hidey hole, you bag him and I plug him. Doesn't that sound like a great example of teamwork?" He chuckled.

Sam sighed and leaned his forearms on the table. He didn't like the idea of working with Larry. In fact, he hated it. But the old adage about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer worked here. Sam couldn't let Larry run amok all over Miami putting Fi's life in danger. If sticking by her kept the monster at bay, he would do it.

Larry's icy eyes surveyed Sam and Jesse until a smug expression crossed his face. "Tell you what? Why don't you two talk about it. But don't take too long, because my intel says McFerrin is coming into Miami today, or he may already be here." He stood and looked down at Sam. "Trust me, he'll find her and take her out without any hesitation."

"Give us a few minutes," Sam said.

"Fine. I'll be right over there." Larry pointed to the bar.

Larry was only a few yards out of ear shot when Jesse muttered, "I hate this idea, Sam. I really hate it!"

"Yeah, well, it's not my idea of a brilliant plan, either. But if we want to keep Fi alive, this is our best bet." Sam let out a breath and leaned closer. "Look, if you don't want to get involved, I can figure out how to do this myself."

"No, no ,no. No way, Sam. I'm not letting you get into a pit with that viper and have no backup." Jesse sat back and let his anger cool. "It's just that you might have to do the intel search on your own."

"Sure, I can do that. Easy peasy, maybe in a couple days I can find out where this McFerrin guy is staying and follow him around to see what he's up to." He glanced at Larry, watching him use his snake-like charm on the waitress, grinning and saying things that made her laugh. "We'll get this job done and hopefully Larry will leave town before Fi decides to take another stab at him. Not that I would be disappointed if she did. We just don't need a replay of last time."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Jesse snuck a glance at his watch. "We better get Larry over here, tell him we're in, and then maybe he'll disappear in a puff of smoke or something."

Larry was ecstatic when Sam and Jesse announced that they would help him find McFerrin. He gave them a number to call when they were ready for Larry to finish him off, and he assured them he would be there. The two watched Larry saunter down the street, their appetites gone.

With a sigh, Jesse rose from his seat. "Guess I better get moving or I'll be late for my appointment. See you later, Sam. And take care."

Sam took Jesse's hand and shook it. "I'll keep in touch and let you know what I find." He stood, scooped up the check, and glanced at it. "I'll get this. Think maybe I can charge Larry for this as a business expense?"

A grim laugh escaped Jesse as he replied, "If you're feeling brave, but I doubt it. I'm tellin' ya, I just wanna finish this as soon as possible and get him out of here."

"You and me both, pal. If Fi gets wind of this, or Mike, I'm afraid this isn't going to be pretty."

Jesse left Sam to pay the bill, and after he dropped a tip on the table, Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced up and down the street. He had no idea where to begin to locate McFerrin, but he had friends who could help. He decided to go back to the hotel and make a few calls. Hopefully someone would have a lead for him.

* * *

With just a few calls, Sam found a buddy who gave him access to the passenger lists for all the flights leaving Ireland and heading to Miami over the course of several days. On the previous day's list, he found McFerrin. He didn't even bother to use an alias, and his passport photo matched the information Larry had given him. Now it was just a matter of locating the man's lodgings and Sam would have his home base. It took a couple of hours, but he tracked McFerrin to a cheaper hotel on the strip. Yes, it was just too easy, and Sam had to wonder if he was being set up. After calling Jesse and leaving a cryptic message with his secretary, Sam took a walk up the street to the hotel and parked himself at the open air bar next door. Fortunately, it was an establishment that let him run a tab, although these days he didn't get as wild as he did in the past. He needed a clear head for this assignment.

It was late in the afternoon and Sam was still on his first beer when his phone rang. He checked the screen with a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, afraid it might be Larry, but it was Jesse. He let out a relived breath and answered it. "Hey, Jesse. You got my message?"

"Yeah. You found McFerrin already?"

"Yeah, it was too neat, Jess."

"Where are you right now?" He sounded as nervous and uneasy as Sam felt.

"I'm next door to the Breaker, watching the exit for our guy," Sam replied. "Why? What's up?"

"I don't like this, you working alone. Things wrapped up here a little early, so I'm on my way. You hang tight and don't do anything until I get there, okay?"

Chuckling, Sam replied, "Just look for me in the alcove behind the palm plants. I'll be one beer ahead of you."

"Alright, I'll see you in ten minutes."

In the time it took for Jesse to arrive, Sam spotted a tall, thin, red-haired man entering the hotel. He was carrying a shopping bag and striding toward the door with a sense of purpose. He appeared tense or wary of his surroundings, which didn't surprise Sam. It was the look of fear that intrigued him. Sam was tempted to get up and follow McFerrin, but he assured Jesse he would stay put until his arrival. The second he saw Jesse, Sam jumped out of his chair and said, "I saw our guy go into the hotel about five minutes ago. He was carrying a big bag from one of those swanky men's boutiques at the mall, so either he's up in his room trying on some new threads, or he scooted out the back, scared as a jackrabbit."

"Scared, huh? Well, let's see if we can pay Mr. McFerrin a visit," Jesse said. "I know Larry wanted us to find him and give away his location so he could take care of things, but this is just rubbing me the wrong way." His eyebrows knit together as he said, "I don't think this is right, and I'd hate for some innocent guy to get killed."

"I know what you mean. The whole thing smells wrong, but I'd rather investigate it and get to the bottom of what's really going on." Sam opened the glass door and let Jesse enter first.

"You know what room he's in?"

Nodding, Sam replied, "He's in three-thirteen."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll be at the pool or something, and we can check out his room."

Sam and Jesse entered the elevator across from the front desk, catching the attention of the woman behind it. She eyed them but made no move. Sam half expected her to pick up the phone and warn McFerrin, but when he gave her a charming smile she smiled back and returned her attention to the computer. He and Jesse got into the elevator that deposited them on the third floor, and they walked the hall toward their target's room.

Sam began to feel the tingle of being on edge, looking for danger, expecting it. If this McFerrin was as dangerous as Larry said, he and Jesse could have quite the fight on their hands.

"You're sure this is our guy," Jesse muttered under his breath. His hand touched the sidearm he kept hidden under a suit jacket.

"Yeah. I'm just not sure that this guy is everything Larry talked him up to be. My buddy at the State Department couldn't find anything on McFerrin that was more threatening than a traffic altercation in Dublin last fall." Sam's stomach tightened, and he wished Mike was there.

"We'll find out soon enough," Jesse whispered and nodded as he stopped in front of a white door with the numbers 313 glinting under the warm lighting in the hall. He pressed his ear to the door and listened.

"Hear anything," Sam asked. His eyes swept the hall in both directions in search of witnesses or McFerrin.

Jesse shook his head. "I think it's clear. Stand back."

Sam hugged the wall and Jesse knocked on the door. In a high-pitched voice, he announced, "Housekeeping!" They waited, but no one answered.

"Do it again," Sam hissed.

After determining that either the room was empty or McFerrin was unable to answer the door, Sam moved in to pick the lock while Jesse served as lookout. The door snapped open and Sam led the way inside. "Well, he's neat," Sam remarked as he entered the room.

Jesse closed the door behind them and surveyed the closet next to the door. Sam checked out the bathroom. A bag from the men's store was folded and stowed in a waste basket in the bathroom. Every piece of the man's toiletry kit lay on a shelf in precise order. Nothing dangerous if you didn't count the disposable razor. Even the used hand towel had been folded and hung on the rack as if it had never been touched. It was slightly damp when Sam touched it. Sam emerged from the bathroom and found Jesse studying the items on a dresser.

"Anything interesting?"

Jesse turned and replied, "Nothing. If he's an assassin, he's done a good job of hiding it." His eyes fixed on a briefcase tucked between the dresser and the wall. "Oh, here we go. Maybe there's something in here." He picked up the briefcase and set it on the bed. The case was unlocked, and Jesse opened it. Inside he found an iPad and lots of paperwork.

"Looks like... contracts," Sam said. He picked up a sheaf and sped through the text. "Nice cover. This guy's pretending to be a beer distributor, from the looks of this."

He and Jesse heard a distinct click and they stared at each other. Before either could make a move to hide, the door opened and McFerrin stood in the entryway gaping at them.

"What are you doing?" He whirled on his heel and ran into the corridor yelling at the top of his lungs. "Help! Someone! There are robbers in my room! Help!"

Sam dropped the papers, not caring that they spread across the duvet. He and Jesse tore out of the room and caught up to McFerrin, grabbed him, and covered his mouth to keep him from screaming. He fought against them, but with two against one and a zip tie, McFerrin was no match for Jesse and Sam. They dragged him back into the room, slammed the door, and pushed him onto the bed with such force, McFerrin fell back on it and stared up at them.

"Who are you? And why do you want to kill me?" McFerrin was dressed in swim trunks and a t-shirt, looking more like tourist than an assassin.

Jesse replied, "Answer a couple of questions, and we'll let you go."

"Yer not the police, are ye? Where are yer badges?" McFerrin's head swiveled back and forth between Sam and Jesse.

"No, we're not the cops," Sam replied. "I'm Sam, this is Jesse, and you are…."

"John," McFerrin replied, his voice shaky. "What do ye want with me?"

"You know, we've already been through your stuff," Sam said with a smirk. "You might as well tell us the truth. Why are you trying to kill Fiona?"

"Fiona? Who is Fiona?" McFerrin struggled to sit up and he glared at Sam.

"You wouldn't happen to know a guy named Larry Sizemore, would you," Sam asked as he watched the blood drain from the man's face. With his fiery red hair he was pale and freckled, but at the moment Sam spoke that dreaded name, McFerrin turned white.

"You're the ones," he muttered. "The ones he sent to kill me." He jumped to his feet and tried to make a run for it, but Jesse grabbed his elbow and held him in place.

"No, we're not gonna kill you," Sam reassured him even as he eyed the man with suspicion. Either he was putting on a good show, or McFerrin was truly terrified of being a target.

"Look," McFerrin said as he lowered his voice and tried to hide his fear. "I have money. Can't we work out some sort of deal? I'm just a businessman, fer cryin' out loud! I had one accident with a psycho, and now my life is at stake? Please, fellas…."

"You're trying to tell us this is all over an accident?" Jesse stared at him, skepticism in his expression.

McFerrin shrugged. "All I know is I've been watchin' over my shoulder the last several months, feelin' like somebody's after me, but I don't know why. I'm just here on business."

"What kind of business," Sam barked. He saw the contracts, but he wanted to test the man.

"I sell beer," McFerrin answered with eyes full of terror. "'Tis all, gentlemen. I swear!"

Letting out a deep breath, Sam said, "Guys, I think we need to sit down and talk about this."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Tis true that I worked with O'Neal for awhile in my youth," McFerrin informed Sam and Jesse, and as he spoke the memories of those times haunted his green eyes. "But I didn't dare get into the sort of things he was doin'. I wanted a future that didn't involve me bein' buried before my time."

"Did you know Fiona Glenanne," Sam asked.

"Aye, not personally, just through friends. She was a tough, spunky one." McFerrin smiled as he responded. "I heard that she came to the States and tried to get away from O'Neal." Concern changed his features as he asked, "Did she succeed?"

"Yes, she did," Sam replied. "So you're not here to kill her, are you?"

McFerrin's laugh was tinged with disappointment, and he shook his head slowly. "That's what I've been tellin' ye. My uncle has a brewery, and he's tryin' to branch out to the States, so I'm just here on business."

"In Miami," Jesse said as he eyed the man with skepticism. "Why didn't you go to New York? I would think the marketing gurus up there would be more helpful."

"Aye, but I had an appointment with someone here, a Mr. Wayne Thomas at Dynamic Marketing. He contacted me just when I was lookin' for an agency to assist us."

"Never heard of them," Jesse said, "But then I don't work with marketing firms. Hang on and I'll do some checking up on them."

While Jesse did his investigating, Sam sat with McFerrin at a table with a view of the beach. They were high enough up, and with the filmy curtains drawn, no one would be able to see them. "So, tell me about your family's business. You make beer?"

"Ah, not just any beer, not like the swill they sell in this country and attempt to call it such." Seamus made a face. "Broken Fiddle is fast becoming a national brand in Ireland. The recipe was in our family for generations, but not until my uncle got hold of it did anyone decide to capitalize on it."

"You got any samples with you," Sam asked with a sly smile.

Seamus laughed. "I have some bein' shipped here. After it gets through customs, I'll have to pick it up. For your assistance, and Mr. Porter's, I think I can spare a few bottles." He winked. "Perhaps even a six-pack for each of ye."

"I don't mind getting paid in imported beer, but we've got something more pressing to worry about right now," Sam declared. "Like why Larry is trying to kill you. He used our concern for Fiona to get us on your trail. He was expecting us to find you, report your location, and step back to let him handle the rest."

Seamus swallowed and stared at Sam. "You're not plannin' on still doin' that, are ye?"

"No way. We really need to find out why he wants you dead."

Jesse came out of the bathroom where he went to make his calls and slipped his phone into his pocket. "Well, I did some checking on that address in Coral Gables. It's an empty storefront, and it sounds like your Mr. Thomas is an alias or he doesn't exist."

"I think it's time to call Fi," Sam said as he pulled out his phone. "She needs to know, because if Larry is using this all as a ruse to get to Fi, she could be in danger."

"Carlos has her back," Jesse suggested, but the look of doubt on Sam's face silenced him. Jesse was a realist about the situation. Some relationships don't last, and when they fall apart, you move on. On one hand, he couldn't blame Fiona for hooking up with Carlos. From what he could tell, he was a nice guy. But on the other hand, he couldn't imagine a world without Michael and Fiona as a couple. It was as if one of the eternal truths of the universe had been broken, and nothing was right with their world since then. He kept hoping Mike would come to his senses, run as far from the CIA as he could, and come back to them, to Fi. Sometimes Jesse was just a hopeless romantic at heart, despite his practicality.

"Fi's meeting us here," Sam announced as he got off the phone.

"Is Carlos coming too?" Jesse's eyebrow rose as he asked the question.

"I would assume so. Those two are like PB and J these days." His lips pursed in disgust. "She said she would meet us in a half hour, so Seamus, you might want to get changed and packed."

"Where are we going?" He glanced at Sam, then Jesse. "Isn't it safer for me to stay here?"

"No, because if Larry finds your location, you're dead," Sam replied. "We've got a safe place for you to stay. Fi will be able to keep an eye on you until we discover why Larry wants you dead and figure out what we can do to change the situation."

Jesse added, "We'll want to go over your history and check everyone. There's got to be a relationship with someone that would cause Larry to go on the warpath against a brewer's salesman."

"Chop chop, Seamus. We've gotta get you out of here first, and we'll worry about the rest as we go along." Sam pantomimed for him to get into the bathroom and change into the clothes the other man cradled in his arms.

As soon as Seamus was dressed and his case was packed, Sam checked him out of the hotel and Jesse snuck him out the back where Fiona and Carlos waited in her car. It was a tight fit with everyone. Fortunately, Fiona didn't have far to drive. She drove them to the safe house, a small three-bedroom bungalow in the middle of a quiet residential area, and while Sam and Jesse hustled Seamus into the house through the back door, Fiona put the car in the garage. Carlos kept an eye out for anyone who might be spying on them. He smiled at her when she came out of the garage, and he clasped her hand in his and led her to the door. Inside, Sam peered through the front blinds. Jesse and Seamus were nowhere to be seen on the first floor.

"Jesse's showing Seamus to a room," Sam explained to Fi and Carlos. Every time he was in the same room as Mike's rival, it was all he could do to control his darker emotions and not sneer at him. He turned his head and found something more interesting to stare at when Carlos put an arm around Fi's shoulders. "Once they're done, we'll sit down and talk about this."

"I'll get some drinks for us. You want a beer, Sam," Carlos asked.

Sam's eyes squinted as he looked at him sideways. "No. Ice tea is fine."

Carlos obviously hadn't gotten the entire story from Fi, or he would have known when he did and didn't drink. Mike would have known better. Sam shook his head and rid himself of that thought. They had to concentrate on work, not on libations. Jesse and Seamus thumped down the stairs and joined everyone in the kitchen, where they all took chairs around a large, round wooden table.

"Okay, will someone please tell us what's going on?" Fi's eyes moved from Sam to Jesse and stopped at Seamus. "You're a quiet one. What have you got to do with this?"

"Seamus McFerrin," he said, extending a hand across the arc. "You must be the infamous Fiona Glenanne."

Her ear twitched at the sound of his brogue, and a slight smile crossed her lips. "Yes, I am. What of it?"

Sam answered, "In a nutshell, Larry wants Seamus dead. We haven't figured out the reason why yet, but we'll work on that tonight." Sam folded his hands around the sweaty glass before him. "Larry hired Jesse and me to locate Seamus and tell him where he is so Larry could kill him. He claims he doesn't care about you, but I would bet dollars to donuts that he wants to take you down out of pure spite. He was probably hoping that you would get in on the search."

"Well, I hope you're not thinking that Carlos and I are staying here tonight." Fiona flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked at Sam as if he asked her for an outrageous favor. "We've got a job to finish up, and then we'll help you boys. Deal?"

"I don't think that's such a great idea right now, Fi." Sam's words and his wary expression warned her.

Jesse asked, "What's this job you're doing?"

"It's nothing you need to be worrying about, just an arms deal. And maybe if we're lucky, we'll nab ourselves a felon in the process," Fiona purred, a smile on her face but her eyes still locked on Seamus. "You look mighty familiar to me, Mr. McFerrin."

Seamus smiled. "You can call me Seamus, Ms. Glenanne. Ye probably remember me from the old days. I ran around with a bad crowd when I was a teen and into my early twenties."

"Yes, I remember now. You worked with O'Neal." Anger filled her voice as she asked, "Sam, what the hell are you and Jesse doin' helpin' this scumbag?"

"Former scumbag, Fi," Jesse responded. "He needs our help."

Sam and Jesse told the story of how Larry recruited them, but Fiona wasn't completely convinced. She sat with her arms crossed and her back pressed into the chair, the side of her thumb running over the end of one nail, back and forth, as she worked out everything in her head. Carlos studied her, an outsider in this and not sure what he would be doing. They had a job to do before either of them got involved, and he hoped that she hadn't forgotten about that.

"Fi, we really have to get going." Carlos glanced at his watch. "We're meeting them at nine, remember? And we still have to get things together."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Fiona drawled with a sigh as she pushed the chair back. "I'm still not liking your plan, Sam. Larry's going to find him sooner or later, and then we'll see what's really happening." She stood and turned from the table, and over her shoulder she said, "We'll be back by eleven p.m. Any later and..."

She didn't have to finish the sentence, because Sam and Jesse knew what she meant. Whatever Fiona and Carlos got sucked into, it was dangerous, and Sam itched to help, but he had a man to protect. After Fi and Carlos left, Sam made dinner and the three settled in for a long session of poker. He kept checking his watch to see what time it was, waiting for Fi to return. Around ten, he heard an engine in the driveway and went to the back door to peer out into the darkness. The light over the garage was rigged to turn on when there was movement, and it shone on Fiona's car. The sigh Sam released was audible, causing Jesse and Seamus to stare at him.

"Is everything okay," Seamus asked, uncertainty in his tone. His hand that held the cards tapped on the table with quick, short movements.

"Fi and Carlos are here," Sam replied as someone banged on the door in a rhythm that matched the soft tamping of the cards on the table. Sam unlocked the door and opened it, and Carlos stumbled inside, holding onto his side. His shirt was stained red. "Carlos... what the hell happened?"

"It was bad, Sam, really bad." Carlos winced as he stopped in the middle of the kitchen and grimaced, his eyes slits of pain as he sensed Jesse and Seamus staring at him.

"Where's Fi?" Sam searched the darkness and didn't see her.

"She... I don't know." He panted and leaned a hand against the counter, fighting to stay on his feet. Blood dripped onto the floor.

"Whaddya mean you don't know!" Enraged, Sam slammed the door and went outside to search for her.

"Come on, man, you better go lay down on the couch," Jesse said. "Seamus, can you get me a pile of supplies? They're in the upstairs bathroom."

"Aye." Seamus ran up the stairs to get the things Jesse needed while he helped Carlos into the living room and dropped him onto the couch.

Sam returned, slamming the door again and still in a rage. His footsteps thudded on the floor as he entered the living room. "She's not in the car. Where'd you leave her? I swear if you don't tell me..."

"Sam, settle down," Jesse said with a soft voice as he kept Sam at bay. "He's out, man. Carlos lost a lot of blood. He's lucky he made it back here, and I'm betting that in his condition he couldn't have driven far." He paused and licked his lips, not sure he should be sending Sam off on this mission. "Maybe you can find her."

"Where are his keys? I'll find Fi. Somehow I'll find her."

Jesse handed him the keys. Seamus came downstairs with the things Jesse needed and Sam glared at the supplies and Carlos. "Sammy, man, I know what you're thinking. I'm not taking that road. I'm gonna do whatever I can to help him."

"Yeah. If Fi's dead, Mike'll wanna kill Carlos himself." Sam turned on his heel and left the house. A few moments later, he squealed the tires on Fi's car as he pulled out of the driveway and down the street. There were two ways he could go, but Sam had a pretty good handle on where Fi liked to do her transactions. He would check the closest ones and hopefully he would find her. The first stop was only a couple miles from the safe house. Since he bought the place and wanted it to stay secure, Sam doubted that Fi would use it. He checked anyway. The park was clear. Half disappointed, he moved on to the next location, and he was only a block away when he saw red flashers and emergency vehicles. Cops were everywhere, along with firefighters and paramedics. Sam recognized the silhouette of Fi's body wrapped in a blanket on the gurney. One of the paramedics held a bag over her as they loaded her into the ambulance.

Sam could breathe a little easier knowing that Fi was getting medical attention, yet he worried at the seriousness of her situation. He stopped outside the circle of activity and approached a cop guarding the scene from bystanders. The cop saw him out of the corner of his eye and held out a hand to stop him.

"Sorry, Sir, you can't get any closer."

Sam responded, his eyes glued to the ambulance. "What happened here?"

"A shooting. The detectives don't know what happened yet, but they'll sort it out. You should go back to your car and head home."

"That's where I was trying to go," Sam lied. "That woman, is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know anything," the cop blurted and gave Sam a warning stare.

"Okay, fine. I'm leaving." Sam turned and hurried to Fi's car. He couldn't get back to the safe house fast enough for his taste. If Carlos was still alive, Jesse would have to keep him from wringing the man's neck. Mike would never have abandoned her like that. He would have done what he could for her at the expense of his own life. Sam swallowed against the hard lump in his throat. In the darkness behind the wheel, he whispered, "Mike, where are you? Fi needs you. Now."

He arrived at the house and parked in the garage, and Sam's eyes kept watch on the shadows on his way to the back door. He had no information on this deal gone bad, and for all he knew, it could have been Larry setting up Fiona. The whole thing was making his head spin. Frustration welled up inside, and it would continue to gnaw at him until he figured out how everything fell into place.

Jesse and Seamus sat at the kitchen table under the hanging lamp, the halo of light creating stark shadows on their faces. They looked at him with expectation. Jesse relaxed his grip on the gun that lay on the table. "Hey, Sam. Is Fi okay? Where is she?"

"I would guess she's at Jackson by now," Sam answered and dropped into the chair across from Seamus. "I found where the deal went bad and they were just putting Fi into the ambulance, so I have no idea what her injuries are or how serious they might be." He dropped his head into his hands. "The cops were all over the place, so there was no way I was gonna get any info or clues as to who did this." He raised his head and asked, "Has Studly Do-Wrong awakened yet?"

"No, he's still out. Sam, he should really be in a hospital."

"Yeah, and there goes any chance of finding out what he knows. After tonight the cops'll be all over anyone who shows up with a gunshot wound."

Seamus gave Sam a nervous smile. "I have this feelin' that you fellas are no strangers to trouble like this."

"If you only knew…." Jesse trailed off, the memories of too many bad missions nagging him.

"You think this Larry fella would go through this much trouble for me?"

"He would," Sam responded with a sour expression. "Larry Sizemore likes to kill people, and anyone who has anything to do with Fi or Michael Westen is in his sights."

"Michael Westen," Seamus whispered. "I've heard of him. He's some superspy, so I've heard. I thought he was freelancin'."

Despite the fact that he and Jesse were protecting an innocent man, Sam was still wary of giving away too much information. He answered, "He was, but not anymore. Mike's deep into something, and that's all I can say. Sorry, Shay."

The corner of Seamus' mouth tipped up at the shortening of his name. "'S alright. Hey, anyone want somethin' to drink? I, uh, had a few bottles of my family's brew in my luggage, for personal consumption. It was declared and all, honest!" He grinned. "Anyway, how 'bout a swig or two?"

"I'm not in a drinking mood," Sam said. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "I'm going to try to get some sleep upstairs. Jesse, first watch?"

"You bet. Get some rest."

"Thanks. I'll probably be back down soon, but I'll give it a shot. 'Night, guys." Sam headed for the stairs and his feet thumped up the steps.

At the top, he discovered that Seamus took possession of the first room on the left. The bathroom and another bedroom were on the right, so he headed for one to wash up and prepare for bed, and in the other room he fell onto the mattress fully clothed. Being on alert, there was no way he would undress and leave himself vulnerable. He tucked his handgun under the pillow next to him before his hand caressed it, thinking of Elsa. He hadn't heard from her, which is how it should be when he was dark. He switched out the SIM card on his phone so no personal information would fall into the wrong hands, not that she would call him or he could contact her. He knew her number by heart, but he would never call Elsa while he was on a job. He did that only once, and it almost cost him his life.

Why Mike loved the spy business was beyond Sam's comprehension. Sam was tired of it, from the exotic but shabby locations to the constant stress of being vigilant to danger, bad food, bad lodging, and the headaches that the spy life afforded. He couldn't get comfortable from tossing, turning, flinging his limbs out to take up the space, and finally he decided that sleep was a lost cause. He got up and prepared to tiptoe past Seamus' room, but the Irishman wasn't in it. The door stood wide open and the room was unoccupied. He glanced at his watch and discovered that it was after one in the morning, so somehow he managed to doze off for a little while. He descended to the first floor and found Seamus in the kitchen alone with two empty bottles that had once held Broken Fiddle beer.

"Shay, I thought for sure you'd be in bed by now," Sam said and studied the man with the droopy eyes.

"I wanted to, Sam, but I'm too afraid now. All this talk about Larry bein' such a cold-blooded killer, well, it's worse than some of the grim stories me grandmother told me as a child." He shivered. "Frightening stuff. Should be illegal to tell children such things before bedtime."

Sam smirked. "I remember hearing a few of those myself but I've experienced more horrifying things in my life since then."

"I can imagine." Seamus motioned for Sam to sit at the table. "Come on, now, try some of my beer."

"Wait a second. Where's Jesse?" Sam peered into the darkness in the living room.

Seamus pointed toward doorway. "Last I saw him, he was checkin' on Claros, I mean, Carlos." He finished off the third bottle. "I got one left. Ye want it?" He jiggled the open bottle in Sam's direction and smiled. "Ye'll be hurtin' me feelin's if ye don't."

Sam sighed and took a seat. "Okay, maybe just a little."

Seamus grinned like a little kid and jumped up from his seat. "Fine, I'll get ye a glass." Seamus retrieved a glass from the cupboard, poured some beer into it, and delivered it to Sam's place at the table. He set the bottle before him. "There ye go, just in case ye change yer mind."

Sam picked up the glass and examined the amber liquid with a healthy head. Like a wine connoisseur, he sniffed it before taking a sip. The robust flavor danced around on his tongue before he swallowed, and he smiled at Seamus. "Wow. That's some good stuff!"

Seamus grinned and nodded. "See, I told ye. I hope I can recover my samples, and if I do, there'll be more to taste."

"We'll see what we can do. First thing is to get to the bottom of this thing with you and Larry." Sam took a larger swig, followed by another until the glass was empty.

"Surely you're not gonna let that brew go to waste now," Seamus said as Sam set the empty glass on the table.

"Sorry, Shay. That's my limit for tonight. I don't like to drink this late on an empty stomach." A strange feeling started working up from deep inside. "I think that was more than enough." Nausea hit him, but he held it at bay. He looked around, sensing that something was wrong and his increasingly fuzzy mind realized that Jesse still hadn't come into the kitchen. No doubt he would have heard Sam and Seamus conversing and come to join them. "Jesse? Jess?"

When he stood, Sam didn't think his legs would hold him. Somehow they'd turned to jelly, and as he shuffled to the living room the wavering sensation reminded him of being on the high seas on a Navy ship in the middle of a storm. But he was on dry land. His vision blurred, and he lost his balance and staggered into a corner shoulder first. The pain took his breath away for a moment and he rubbed it. He turned back to Seamus who stared at Sam with a look of fear and incomprehension on his face.

"Sam. Sam, what's happening?"

"I… I don't know." He reached the doorway to the living room and spied Jesse on the floor. He appeared to be unconscious. Sam spun around to face Seamus, and he grabbed his shirt front. "Wh-what did you do to my friend? What happened to Jesse?"

Seamus stood before him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish fighting for a breath. "I don't know what you're talkin' about. I didn't do anything to him."

Sam took a step forward and pulled on Seamus' shirt until only inches passed between them. "What did you put into that beer? I was fine until I drank it."

"I swear to ye, I don't know what's goin' on! Please, Sam, ye gotta snap outta this!"

The only snapping Sam was going to do was with his arm. He tried so hard to stay on his feet, but it was impossible. He released Seamus and he lost consciousness, sinking to the floor, his forearm cracking against the ceramic tile floor.

"Sam! Sam!" Seamus dropped to his side to check for a sign of life. "Aye, yer still breathin'. That's good. That's real good." Seamus checked on Jesse before pulling a cell phone from his pocket. He dialed and waited for the voice on the other end before he reported with a distinct lack of brogue. "I've got them. We're at eighteen seventy two Brookwood. Porter and Axe are still alive, but I don't think this Carlos guy is doing so well."

"I want him alive," Larry barked. "He's not worth much to my plan, but if he knows anything about where Michael Westen is, he could be valuable."

"Yes, Sir. I'll prep 'em for transport."

"The van will be there in about ten minutes. Think you can tie them up? Don't screw this up, Kid, or you'll be joining them all in the 'glades later. Or the sea." Larry chuckled, the cold rumbling setting Seamus on edge. "I haven't decided yet where I'm depositing them." He cleared his throat and sobered. "You just worry about getting my friends ready for the van. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Sizemore. You can count on me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Jesse woke to find himself on a cot in a room with a window on two of the four walls. They were covered by heavy, flower-patterned curtains that let in a narrow sliver of light when a soft breeze moved the fabric, and he heard the hush of gentle waves on sand. The sent of sea air told him that he was close to the ocean and no longer in the safe house. He recalled that Seamus had insisted that he try some of the family brew, so he took a shot glass full in the name of politeness, and not long after he felt very ill and was unable to stay conscious. He couldn't believe that he'd been so stupid to trust him.

Jesse let his eyes adjust and he rolled to his side. On the other bunk facing away from him, he spied the back of Sam's Hawaiian shirt.

"Sam. Hey, Sammy, you awake?"

Sam groaned. Jesse sat up and his head pounded, but he ignored the sensation and moved closer to the cot. He reached out, grasped Sam's shoulder and shook it.

"Sam. Come on man, wake up."

"Jesse? Is that you?"

Jesse sucked in a breath. "Maddie?"

"Yes, it's me." Her voice grew in volume and her footsteps neared the room until she stood in the doorway. "Jesse, is Sam okay?"

Sam grumbled and flapped a hand at an insect that attempted to land on his nose, and he opened his eyes, setting them on Maddie, wide with surprise. "Maddie, I thought you were home with Charlie!"

"I was until I was kidnapped." The question ground past her gritted teeth. "Who's doing this, and why?"

"My guess is Larry is involved, and as far as why, his ultimate goal is to get Mike," Sam said as he rose to a seated position and stretched. "What was in that beer?"

"Seamus got you, huh?" Jesse looked at him with chagrin still on his face.

"Yeah. You too?" Sam shook his head, his mouth a grim line of frustration. "We shouldn't have trusted him. He played us good."

Jesse admitted his guard was also down. "I should have known better. You were upstairs asleep and I was watching him and Carlos." He paused, realizing that they were missing a man. "Where's Carlos?"

"I don't care about him right now," Sam exclaimed. He pushed himself to his feet and instantly regretted the move. "Uhoh."

"What's 'uhoh', Sam?"

"I think I'm gonna be... sick." He couldn't control the clenching of his stomach, but he at least managed to keep the contents down. Leaning against the wall felt good. The plaster was cool. "With side effects like this, I don't think Broken Fiddle beer is going to make it in this country."

Maddie snorted. "Figures someone would drug your beer, Sam."

"Oh, and what happened to you? Someone spike your nicotine gum?" Sam winced at the snappiness in his tone and the words he spoke. "I'm sorry, Maddie. That... that was uncalled for." He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, rested his wrists on his knees and closed his eyes with the hope that darkness would tame the after-party in his stomach.

"I don't know what happened. One minute I was at home with Charlie. He wanted to go to the park, so I was getting ready to take him. I was putting things in my bag, and something crashed through the dining room window." She sniffed. "It was like tear gas or something, and it paralyzed me. I fell and couldn't get up, and Charlie... he was on the floor." Maddie swiped at her eye, trying to hold herself together. "If they hurt him..."

"It's okay, Maddie, we'll get him back safe." Jesse came around the cot and put an arm around Maddie.

"Where's Fiona," Maddie asked. She searched her pockets for a tissue and found a rumpled one that she used to dab at her nose.

"She's probably still in the hospital," Sam replied and told her what he'd seen the night before. "Carlos is, hopefully, in a hospital too. Unless they decided to just kill him. I mean, this is Larry we're talking about. The only thing predictable about him is that he likes to cut a wide swath when dealing with life and death."

"We have to figure out where we are, who's holding us, and why," Maddie said, pacing in front of the windows. She stopped and turned, peeled back the curtain with caution, and peered outside. "We have to find Charlie, Fiona, and that Carlos guy. Well, it looks like we're on an island, but I don't see a way off." She turned and stared at Jesse and Sam. "Did either of you tell this Seamus guy, whoever he is, where Michael was?"

"No," Jesse answered. "Not that we could, since we don't know where he is."

"That's what Larry wants. He won't quit until he gets Mike's location." Sam rested his head against the wall. "Drugged beer is on the tame side of what he's got planned for us if we don't talk."

"Well, until someone comes for us, I think we're pretty much stuck here," Jesse declared as he joined Maddie at the window and looked through it. "There's a short pier but no boat. I'm going to check out the rest of the place. You guys wanna stay here?"

"Are you kidding?" Sam forced himself to get to his feet and used the wall for support. "We are not splitting up for anything, got it? We need to stick together."

The three left the bedroom. Across the hall was another bedroom with a cot. "That's where I woke up," Maddie said. She led them down a short hall to a living area with an old couch, a table equipped with four chairs, and a kitchen area that ran along the wall shared with Maddie's room. A small ancient stove and an ice box flanked a short counter with a sink in the middle.

Sam stepped forward to check the cupboards. "Did they leave us with any water? Food? Ah, a little bit, but not enough for us to stay here long." He looked in the ice box. "There's a huge block of ice in here, but not much in the cold area."

"So either they expect to get something out of us soon, or they don't anticipate we'll be needing to eat after a few days," Maddie grumbled. "Jeez, why'd I have to quit smoking?"

"So you can be around to be Charlie's grandma for a long time yet," Jesse volunteered.

"It won't do much good if we're dead," Maddie replied with a tartness in her words.

Sam placed a comforting hand on Maddie's back and spoke in a soft tone. "There's no way Larry will kill any of us until he's gotten what he wants, and that's Mike. And depending upon why he wants him, maybe Larry will give us a break and let us go. Big maybe, but stranger things have happened."

Maddie let her head fall sideways into Sam's chest and she closed her eyes as he put his arms around her. She didn't know much about Larry, but if Sam wasn't holding out much hope of their survival, he must be a terrible person, one of the baddest Michael had ever had to deal with. She really wished she hadn't quit smoking!

* * *

The temperature inside the shack was rising with the sun beating on the wooden shingle roof. Maddie busied herself putting together a little something for them to eat after doing an inventory and realizing that they only had three to four days' worth of food in the ramshackle building. Sam and Jesse went to the beach a few yards from the front door. They split up and walked in different directions until they almost couldn't see each other, and then they returned.

"It's a small island," Jesse reported to Maddie as the three sat down to lunch.

"We'll go around the back after we eat, but I'm betting we're not gonna find anything like a boat," Sam added.

"How far do you think we are from civilization? And where are we?" Maddie took a breath to try to stem the panic she felt rising inside her. "God only knows, we could be in Cuba or something!"

Jesse and Sam glanced at each other. The last place they wanted to be was Cuba. Some angry Russians there would like nothing better than to obtain pieces of them, and Mike, as souvenirs. "Most likely we're on some island in the Keys, or the Caribbean, not too far from Miami," Jesse speculated.

"Jesse's right. Larry won't want us to be gone far, just enough to make it tough to get home without a boat." Sam reached into his pockets and muttered a curse. "They cleaned me out. I don't even have my cell, which would probably be worthless on this island."

After finishing their meal, the trio set out to circle the island. Nothing but white sand stretched completely around it and scrub brush with a few palm trees dotted the real estate in the center. Two palms shielded the shack from the late afternoon sun, which was some consolation.

"I'm not seeing any coconuts on those trees," Jesse observed, gazing up at the swaying fronds that whispered in the breeze. "How much fresh water do we have?"

"There's a tank behind the shack," Sam replied. "Let's check it."

The men determined that they had several days of water if they conserved it, three days of food, and no fresh clothes, so what they wore at the time was it. Maddie frowned, depression setting in. Without a word she went inside and left Sam and Jesse standing on the porch. Their eyes scanned the blue horizon, and neither of them said anything, hoping that a boat might come close enough for them to signal. They had some matches in the cupboard, but those were also at a premium.

"I wonder how far a body would have to swim to get help," Jesse mused aloud.

"That's crazy talk, Jess. Look at it. There's nothing for miles. No man could swim that, especially if you don't know which way you should be going." Sam exhaled and took a step to the sand.

"What are you doing? I thought we were staying together, remember?"

Sam turned and squinted against the angled sun. "I'm not going anywhere. Just grabbing some of those fronds on the beach to give me something to do, and maybe I'll think of a plan to get us off of this island."

With nothing better to do, Jesse joined him. Together they pulled nearly a dozen green fronds from underneath the palm trees and deposited them near the porch. Sam stripped the leaves from the stalk and began weaving them together.

Jesse smiled. "Oh, I get it. You're making a raft. Great idea!" He got off his butt that he perched on the porch edge and joined Sam in his efforts. The leaves were tough and cut their hands.

"No, these'll make a crappy raft. We don't have enough wood for support, and even if we did, we don't have a tool to fell trees and prep them for use." Sam gave Jesse a disappointed look. "You haven't had to do too many survival missions, have you?"

"Before I met Mike, no, they weren't part of my regular routine."

Laughing, Sam said, "Until Mike came back, my idea of survival was figuring out how to open a beer when I had one arm around a beautiful woman and the bottle in my other hand." He smirked. "But you never forget how to do it, survive that is. Mike has just made it into an art form."

"So I guess it hasn't been all that bad hooking up with him, huh."

Sam looked around and settled his gaze on Jesse. "Why don't you say that again when we're back at Carlito's with a couple cold ones."

"Preferably not Broken Fiddle beer."

Sam threw back his head and laughed. "You got that right, mister!"

"So, what are we going to do with these things?" Jesse held up the small mat he made.

"I was thinking they might make a good hammock. Better than trying to sleep on those cots." Sam grinned.

"I still think we could make something that'll float if we wove 'em tighter."

Sam looked at Jesse. "I've got an idea. I saw some nice, evenly sized trunks on the ground in the scrub. Maybe we could build a frame with them, but it'll have to be sturdy to hold the matting." He studied the pieces they already created and said, "Let's go haul those out before it gets dark, and maybe Maddie can help us with this part."

With no electricity on the island and no oil lamps that they could find, darkness came fast and heavy. Jesse and Sam piled up the logs alongside the shack in time to go in for supper, and until the light faded away the three worked on weaving the mats onto one another so they formed one large piece.

"That's only big enough for two of us, maybe," Jesse said as he dropped his end and looked down at his hands. They stung and he could sense the cuts in his palms. "Is there a first aid kit in the shack?"

"No," Maddie replied. "I looked when I was doing an inventory of the food." In the twilight she examined his hands and choked back the horror as she exclaimed, "Jesse! Your hands are practically cut to ribbons!"

"Not that yours are much better," Jesse countered and turned Maddie's hands palms facing upward.

"Yeah, we're all looking like we tried to hold a knife by the blade," Sam said as he showed them his hands. "Rinse 'em off with some of the water and let them be exposed to the air. That's the best we can do."

It wasn't easy falling asleep with the dull, rhythmic pain, but even without it, Sam would have stayed on alert all night. The moon was full and shone on their island, slipping a beam through the crack between the curtains right into his eyes. He rolled to avoid it and dozed now and then, but in the early hours he stepped out onto the porch to watch the bright orb crawl across the sky. Faint lights in the distance got his attention. It was probably a cruise ship. Despite maritime law, Sam knew it was pointless to burn something to get their attention. They were on a precise route transporting over a thousand customers to someplace, and they had no time to deal with stranded people being held against their will.

Thinking like that, it was tempting to lose hope. Sam recalled times where the team had been in more dire straights and they came through. They would do it again. He wondered where Mike was, and if he was safe or deep into some kind of trouble. Then it hit him. Larry had connections in the Agency. He could have found out where Mike was, unless what he was doing was no longer CIA-sanctioned. He shivered in the balmy air, thinking that if his friend had gone dark, he wasn't sure what was more dangerous: Larry or his mission.

The sky was beginning to lighten on the eastern horizon. Sam should have gone back to bed, but with the thoughts he was thinking, he was too unsettled. He stayed on the porch and watched the sky change and eventually the sliver of sun rose. He heard footsteps and turned to see Jesse coming out of the shack. He sat beside him and watched the sight.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Sam shrugged. "Someone had to keep an eye on things."

Jesse smiled at Sam's bravado. "Of course. Thanks, man. You should go get some rest and I'll keep watch."

Sam wanted to argue, but after all the hunting for materials and constructing the palm frond mats, he really was tired. He entered the shack and trudged past Maddie in the hall, and he gave her a mumbled good morning before dropping onto the cot. Sam tried to tell himself that his weariness was a remnant of the drug that Seamus slipped into his beer, but that was a lie. Part of him wanted to stay awake. His body won and he fell asleep within five minutes of his head hitting the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Michael sat in the doorway of his apartment because it was too hot inside. It was late, he should have been in bed, but between the heat and nightmares about his friends, he found it impossible. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Sam and Jesse standing before him, disappointed in him and his choice to keep going. Arguing. He wanted them to leave because they'd done more than enough to help him, and as he got deeper and deeper into the mire, the last thing he wanted to do was drag them down with him. They left with reluctance. Michael hugged himself around the shoulders and felt Sam's grip as he said goodbye, heard the warning all over again.

"Mike, this has got to stop soon before you lose yourself. Before you become like Larry."

"Dead?" Michael joked, although he knew what Sam meant.

Sam pulled back and said nothing, letting is pursed lips speak for him. He clapped Michael on the arm and said, "Good luck, Mike. We'll be waiting for you. Come home soon."

"I'm working on it, Sam. I'm close, real close."

He'd done everything he was asked and more, but still it never seemed to end. He was exhausted physically and mentally, and he needed closure. His head drooped and his eyes closed, and his mind wandered to a small yard behind a house. He saw a child there, one who looked like himself when he was young. The boy played on the swing set, climbing the poles to get to the support at the top. He loved hanging from it and scurrying back and forth like a monkey.

"Carlos! Carlos!"

Michael opened his eyes and his head shot up as he gasped. He looked around and in the new light of dawn he saw a heavy-set woman wearing an outfit that was more suited to a slimmer one wandering the street below calling for Carlos. It was probably that kid he'd seen around the neighborhood recently. Between missions for the moment, Michael had time to observe his neighbors. Carlos was a nice kid. He just didn't have many friends because he liked to investigate and get into trouble. Kind of like Michael when he was a kid. He smiled.

A sound to his left got his attention, like something bumping against the wall, followed by footsteps. Wary, he readied his side arm. The footfalls came closer, around the corner, and he stood to meet the challenge. It was Strong, the last person Michael would have expected to call on him at his temporary home.

"Michael, you look like hell," Strong said with a low tone.

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself," Michael quipped in reply and took his hand off his weapon. He crossed his arms and asked, "What are you doing here? Won't this blow your cover or something?"

"I have bigger things to worry about right now, like you, the guy who's getting things done."

"Me? I'm fine." Michael smiled, because he may have appeared fine on the outside, inside he was close to being beaten and broken down. He wanted more than anything to go home.

"You won't be when you hear what came down from Langley." Strong hesitated before dropping the bomb. "Larry Sizemore is alive."

Michael chuckled, but when he saw the serious expression on Strong's face, he stopped. "You're serious."

"Dead serious. Pardon the bad pun." Strong let out a breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. "It gets worse. You know the Agency has been keeping an eye on your friends, making sure they stay safe..."

"Yeah, whatever lie you wanna tell yourself, that's fine." Michael broke eye contact and surveyed the area. "What's your point?"

"My point is this." Strong grasped Michael's arm and forced him to turn back to him. "Larry has kidnapped Sam, Jesse, and Maddie. Fiona wound up in the hospital, and Carlos..."

Michael didn't care about Carlos. The only one in that couple who mattered was Fiona. He took a step toward Strong as his eyes took on a hard look, as if he would rip out the man's throat if he didn't tell him more. "What happened to Fi? Where is she? How badly was she hurt?"

Strong took a step back with his hands up. "Woah, woah, Mike. Relax, she's in good hands. The cops have't quite figured out what happened yet, but our agents figured she and Carlos went on an arms dealing run. She thought she was meeting clients, but most likely it was Larry or some of his recruits. Fiona was shot, Carlos got away, but he turned up later at the hospital." Strong paused, working up the courage to tell him more. His eyes met Michael's and he saw the pain deep inside the tortured man.

"What's going on, Strong. Why are my friends being targeted?"

"Can't you see it, Michael? Larry is trying to get you to come out of the woodwork. He wants you." Strong let out a breath and bowed his head before looking Michael in the eyes again. "If I were you I'd get my mind back on the game. Larry wants his revenge on you, and you'll only wind up dead along with your friends, and your mom..."

"My Mom? Larry's got my Mom too?" Michael grabbed Strong's shirt lapels and pushed him against the wall. "I want you to tell me everything you know. Where he is. Where my Mom is, and Sam and Jesse. Don't tell me you don't know, because I know the Agency."

Strong was not pleaseed with the look in Michael's eyes. It was like those water blue orbs had turned to fire, and the firm, imposing set of his facial muscles told Strong that Michael was ready to punch something. It was going to be him if he didn't talk. His aim had been to give Michael the news and use it as an incentive to get him out to finish his mission. It backfired, and now nothing would get done until his friends and family were safe.

With a deep sigh, Strong forced himself to relax in Michael's grip. "Okay. Let's go get some coffee and we'll talk about this. I know a cafe where we can keep things on the down low. Come on, Mike."

He didn't call him 'Mike' very often, and when he did, it was to diffuse the time bomb inside the man. No doubt it reminded him of his friend Sam, and Strong made sure he used his name in the same tone that Sam would. Surveillance devices were a wonderful thing, allowing him to learn Michael's friends' quirks and characteristics that made them unique and allowed Strong to use that information when the need arose.

* * *

After Strong finished telling what he knew, the last place Michael's head was at was 'in the game'. He was worried about his friends and family, more than he'd ever been. Larry was alive, which half angered and half scared him. He wanted to get on the first plane back to Miami so bad, he didn't realize when he muttered aloud, "I need to go home."

"You can't go yet, Michael. There's still business to take care of here," Strong reminded him with an edge to his voice. "We've got to find who was working with Burke, and Sonya..."

"No," Michael screamed at Strong and jumped to his feet, upsetting the even keel of the table. His cup tilted and spattered coffee onto the surface and it jiggled into a puddle at the edge, held in place by the lip of the metal strip that ran around the table's edge. Pointing at Strong and not caring what anyone thought, he bellowed, "Every time I do something for you, you tell me this is it. One more step and we're done. Then it's another step, or another mission, or another cover. When does it stop, Strong? How long do I have to play your indentured servant until I finally earn my freedom? And my peoples' freedom?"

"I thought you were a patriot, keeping your country safe," Strong came back with a subdued voice. "All this time you were just looking out for yourself?"

"I love my country, Strong, but this..." He swept his arm out pointing at the scenery around them. "This is above and beyond." Michael leaned forward, rested his fists on the table, and stared into Strong's scared eyes with a piercing fire in his. "If I don't look out for myself, who will? Certainly not my government. If there's any selfishness going around here, it's the CIA taking advantage of me, my family, and my friends."

"Michael, you're overreacting." Strong looked around and relaxed a little upon seeing that the people at the other tables had gone back to their business and ignored the two men.

"I don't think I am." Michael's voice was deep and raspy. He pulled back and straightened, and he pulled something out of his pocket and threw it onto the table. "That's the last of what I owe you, for the coffee. I'm out of here, and you can find some other fool to play."

"You're making a big mistake," Strong warned, his mouth forming a thin line. "You go back now, you might as well just march yourself back to the holding cell."

Shaking his head, Michael replied, "You and I know that Larry has to be stopped. After I know everyone is safe, they can lock me up for the rest of my life. I don't care anymore."

He ran away before Strong could stop him. The old agent didn't have the chops to run after him, so Michael took full advantage of the man's bad knees. He sprinted to his apartment and picked up the few things that were worth taking, and he took one long look around the place knowing he would never see it again. Michael was glad. He was tried of it, fed up with the Agency and its games, and he really believed that if his disobedience cost him his freedom, he was resigned to his fate. At least he would have a nice long vacation. He'd been to enough places, he felt confident that he could just imagine himself somewhere else and get by. God knows he'd had to deal with more psychologically challenging situations in his life.

Michael trotted down the stairs and when his feet hit the ground he ran to the bus stop. He slipped into the crowd and blended in, rode the bus to the airport, and hoped that he could find a pilot willing to take him to Miami. By nightfall he was still on Dominican soil. His spirits flagged. No options presented themselves, and Michael's brain raced in an attempt to figure out a way to go home. Sitting at the back of a dingy bar near the airport, he studied the clientele. Someone there had to be slippery enough to accept a few hundred dollars to take a guy to Miami in the dead of night. Unfortunately, they would probably be too drunk to fly. If only he could call Sam now that he knew his friend could fly a plane. But Sam was being held somewhere until Michael made an appearance in front of Larry. With despair wrapping around his shoulders, he sagged over his drink.

Vinyl creaked as someone slipped into the booth bench opposite him, and if it weren't for the fact that he was always wary of movement in his surroundings, he would never have looked up and seen a familiar face. The older man smiled even as his eyes studied Michael with concern.

"Of all the dives in the Caribbean, I never thought I'd see you here, Michael."

"Virgil." Michael took a sip. "I could say the same. What are you doing here?"

"A client asked me to sneak something into port," Virgil replied with his head hovering over the table and his voice low enough so only Michael could hear. "I've been a little strapped for cash lately. Bad business investment." He grimaced. "Anyway, I'm making a few bucks here and there. I was going to grab myself a beer and head out after dark."

Michael gaped at him for a moment. Asking Virgil for help would be a huge pill to swallow, but at this point, Michael was willing to take the major ding to his pride. There was something bigger at stake here, bigger than himself. "Virg... would you give me a ride back to Miami?"

"Miami," Virgil said, stroking his chin as he thought about it. "I'd have to gas up, and I'll have just enough fuel to get me there. Then I'll have to fill up again to go back to the Bahamas." He shrugged. "If you make it worth my while..."

"I can pay you. It's just that you'll have to hold off until we get back, and I can get into my account. That is, if the government hasn't frozen my funds again," Michael muttered. He watched the smile wipe off Virgil's face. "Virg, please, listen. I need to get home. Larry's got everybody, including my Mom."

Madeline Westen was Virgil's Achilles heel. Knowing she might be in danger made all the difference in the world. With newfound vigor, he stood and pushed himself out of the booth, and he pulled on Michael's sleeve, saying, "Well, come on, Mikey! We've got people to rescue!"

The corner of Michael's mouth tipped up into a smile. He set some change on the table next to his empty glass and followed Virgil out of the bar. The sun had gone down and it was dark on the streets except for a weak lamp shining onto the street every once in awhile. It was the perfect cover for him and Virgil to sneak back to the marina. He followed Virgil's instructions and even took the responsibility of fueling the boat. When the tank was full, Michael paid for the gas, Virgil fired up the boat and untied it from the dock. Michael leaped over the rail and landed in the stern.

On the way back to Miami he filled in Virgil on what he knew. Virgil said, "So you don't really know where they are, and you have no clue how to get a hold of Larry. Great."

"I have a feeling if I show up at Carlito's, he'll find me there," Michael responded. "I want you to stay with the boat until I call you."

"What? You can't take on Larry by yourself! That man is plumb crazy!" He lost his grip on the wheel and quickly fumbled to get it back before the vessel went out of control. "You need help, Mike!"

"Virg, my Mom would probably kill me if I used you to help me find her."

"Your Mama would probably kill me if I let you go off by yourself." Virgil's eyes were dark sockets under the glow from the control panel. "I guess that settles it, doesn't it. We go together."

"I'll think about it," Michael said as he disappeared into the hold. He popped up, the top part of his head the only thing visible as he said, "You don't mind if I take a snooze, do you?"

"No, I don't mind at all. You're gonna need your rest." Virgil waved him down the steps. "I'll let you know when we get to Miami."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Virgil pulled into the slip well before sunrise. He secured the craft and went down below to get a few winks before he and Michael went to Carlito's, but his mind raced with the possibilities of what could happen. Larry had a reputation for being crazy which worried him, and he remembered that the last encounter Michael and his friends had with Larry was over the top. It appeared that the only good Larry was a dead Larry, and Virgil knew that Michael would settle for nothing less. But would that then make him no better? These thoughts swirled around in his head as he tried to get some rest.

Michael woke him when the sun was climbing in the eastern sky. Considering that Michael wanted to run into Larry, he and Virgil found transportation to get to Maddie's house and made a point of being visible. After a shower and a change into clean clothes, they were ready to sit at Carlito's and wait.

Virgil had no problem eating his breakfast. He was used to dealing with tension, being at the constant ready, and still taking care of basic needs. Michael, despite his rest, looked worn out. He needed to get out of the Agency before it sucked him dry.

"Mike, you can tell me if I'm out of line here, but... I think you need to hang it up. You deserve to have a normal life."

Michael looked at Virgil over his coffee cup. He took a sip and set it on the table. "Virg, I don't even know what that is. But I assure you, as soon as this issue with Larry is resolved, I'm quitting. If they want to take me and throw me into a cell for the rest of my life, as long as it doesn't include everyone else, I'd be okay with that."

"Really? Come on, don't con me! What you want is to settle down with that sweet, adorable little Fiona and have little Mikeys and Fionas. Kids like your nephew that your Momma can babysit and love."

Michael frowned. "How'd you know about Charlie?"

"I, uh, I've been keeping in touch with Madeline," Virgil admitted, wincing and expecting Michael to attack.

Instead, Michael only sighed and picked at his food. "I suppose if my Ma trusts you, you're not all that bad."

To Virgil's surprise, the younger man raised his head and his face bore a slight smile. Virgil returned it as his spirit soared. It was a guarded acceptance, but Virgil would take it. "Thanks, Michael. I promise I won't let you down."

"You better not, or..." His smile turned into a dark frown as Michael's eyes focused on something beyond Virgil's head.

Virgil turned and knew he was seeing a living, breathing evil coming their way. Larry Sizemore gave off an unseen vibe of overconfidence, well-earned because of the fear he instilled in others. It wasn't the first time Virgil had met men like that, but Larry was exceptional, and not in a good way.

"Well, well, Michael, you brought reinforcements," Larry crowed as he stopped at the table. "But I gotta say I'm pretty disappointed. I thought you had more friends." Without being invited, Larry sat in one of the empty chairs, raised his arm, and called out a coffee order to the server. She nodded, turned toward the kitchen, and left the three alone. At this early hour, there weren't many people on the patio.

"Let's just cut to the chase," Michael said. "I want my friends back safe and sound. I want my Mom returned unharmed."

"In good time. They're on an island near the Keys right now, and after a nice breakfast we'll just cruise on out there and have a little visit." Larry grinned and turned to Virgil. "You don't mind providing the transportation, do you, Virg? Of course not. Saves me from renting a yacht." He chuckled.

The way Larry insulted them with a grin on his face made Michael's anger surge inside. He wanted to kill Larry then and there, but then he would never know where Sam, Jesse, and his Mom were. By the time he found them, they could be dead. No, he wouldn't let that happen. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and stood. Larry was taken aback, but Michael smiled to reassure him. "I just need to use the bathroom. It's going to be a long ride, and let's face it, the head on Virg's boat isn't as nice as the restrooms here at Carlito's.

"Hey, it's not so bad," Virgil protested, his eyes locked on Michael's and full of questions.

"I'll be right back." Michael didn't wait for permission from Larry. He didn't need it. If the guy followed him to the restroom, however, he might have a problem on his hands.

Larry stayed at the table with Virgil. When he saw that the coast was clear, Michael ducked into the kitchen and met the server coming out.

"Woah, Michael, what's up?" He'd been such a regular customer, she knew his name and gave him a friendly smile.

"Can I borrow the house phone? Just for a couple minutes, local call. I promise."

She hesitated, looked around, and said, "Oh, why not. God knows you and your friends give us enough business." She picked up the cordless phone and handed it to him with a conspiratorial smile. "Go for it, and when you're done, can you put it back in there?"

"Sure. Thanks." He grinned, then asked, "Can you..."

"Keep your companions occupied? No problem." She winked and carried Larry's coffee out on a tray.

Michael let out a huge breath in relief and ducked into the men's room. He knew a lot of numbers by heart, but at the moment, this was the most important one.

"Hello."

He didn't expect Elsa to pick up the phone herself. He hesitated a beat and spoke. "Elsa? Hi, this is Michael. Michael Westen."

"Oh my god, Michael! Where are you?"

"At Carlito's."

"Carlito's? How can you be sitting there enjoying yourself when Sam and the rest of your friends are missing?"

"You know?"

"Yes, I know. I just got home. Sam asked me to go to New York and he said he would call me when it was safe to come back to Miami. But I didn't hear from him. That Larry creep called me and said he had everyone and that if I didn't return to Miami I wouldn't see Sam alive again." She was almost hyperventilating she was so upset and angry. "Michael, what is he planning?"

"Elsa, please, can you do me a favor? Take a breath and listen."

He heard Elsa exhale, and he imagined her in her perfect suit, expensive no doubt, with a hand on her hip and invisible steam rising from her head. Finally, she grumbled, "What do you want?"

"I need backup." He didn't hear anything on the other side. "Elsa, please. Sam's life is at stake here." He waited, knowing her feelings for Sam ran deep and she would be hard pressed not to do what she could to help him.

"I don't know what you want. I'm not a commando." From the tone of her voice, Michael suspected that she regretted that at the moment.

"I want you to stay somewhere with a lot of security and call someone who can provide you with firepower and men. You have a yacht yet, correct?"

"Yes."

"Good. The extraction team will need your yacht..."

She interrupted. "But how will they find you? Locating someone in the ocean without a clue as to where they're heading would be as easy as trying to find the contact I dropped on the bathroom floor this morning."

Michael smiled at the analogy before getting back to business. "I'll also give you the frequency for the tracker I planted on Virgil's boat. Elsa, listen, because I need you to tell my contact what we're doing. We'll get to the island where Larry is keeping them, the team will show up, and Larry will be taken in. Hopefully Sam and everyone will be fine."

"You make it sound so simple. Okay, what's that number?"

Michael gave Elsa the number and was confident that she would relay the message.

"Michael, promise me one thing," Elsa said before hanging up the phone.

"What is it?"

"If that snake has harmed one hair on Sammy's head, you make sure he doesn't walk off that island alive. Sam told me about him. Prison is too good for that worthless piece of skin."

"I couldn't agree more," Michael replied. "I'll see what I can do, but now, I gotta go. Larry's going to get suspicious. I've already taken too much time." Michael hung up the phone, returned it to its base in the kitchen, and slipped into his seat at the table. Larry gave him a steely eyed look, but Michael only smiled.

"Took long enough, Kid. I thought you snuck out the back," Larry said as he studied his old trainee who over the years had become just as crafty and dangerous as himself. He couldn't be more prouder. Larry grinned. "Well, now that we're all here and everybody's taken care of their potty issues, think we can hit the water?"

"Sure," Michael replied. "Virgil, you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, Mikey. Let's go."

The three went to Virgil's boat, and he piloted them out of the marina. All the way, Michael worried about his friends and his mother. All he could think about was finding them dead or in serious condition, and it would justify his snapping Larry's neck. He still had enough morals to keep from doing it in cold blood, which was more courtesy than he'd given some of his victims in the past year. His eyes wandered over the light waves on the horizon and pondered how he slid into such a mire and became a truly despicable man. He followed orders because if he didn't, Strong said everyone would go back to prison forever. He kept Michael in a contained environment, not contacting anyone in the agency but him because he was his superior. But now he was in a desperate place and Strong wasn't helping. It was if he wanted all the distractions of Michael's life to disappear so that he would have him all to himself.

It suddenly became crystal clear what was happening. Strong was using him like all the others had in the past, and he blackmailed him with freedom because he knew that nothing else would work. After Card, Michael lost the bond of father/son that he had with his mentor. And that's where Larry made his fatal mistake. He assumed that Michael still felt allegiance to him and if he played the father figure and tugged on those strings, Michael would do whatever he asked. But Larry was in for a rude awakening if his plan worked. He hoped that the last thing Larry saw and heard was Michael standing over him telling him to go to hell.

* * *

The trip to the island took a few hours, and under the hot sun it became apparent that they would burn and get dehydrated before they arrived. Michael went below for water. He didn't waste any time because he knew Larry was suspicious of him. He grinned and handed him a bottle. Larry opened it, satisfied that the seal hadn't been tampered with, and he took a quick sniff before downing a good portion of it. All the while his eyes never left Michael. He hadn't been under such scrutiny in years. While it would creep out most people, Michael enjoyed it. It would only make his revenge sweeter knowing that Larry had no idea what was coming.

"Kid, after this, when we get your friends back home safe, you and I, we'll work together again. We could conquer the world with our combined knowledge and skills, and enough C4." Larry chuckled.

"I don't understand what you want, Larry." Michael turned to him. "Take down the CIA?"

"Yes, yes, you get it, Kid!" His grin was brighter than the sunlight, and in his glee he grasped Michael's upper arms, a gesture a father might make toward a son. "You and I get revenge on the Agency that chewed us up and spit us out. How's that for justice?"

Michael played along and gave him a toothy smile. "The past few years have been kind of rough."

His dry statement made Larry crow with laughter and he squeezed Michael's arms. "Oh, this is gonna be great. Just wait. We'll get everybody back to the mainland and then we'll start planning. Hey, maybe that girlfriend of Sam's will be willing to shell out a little cash to help us when she realizes that lover boy is involved."

"My friends don't need to be part of this, Larry." It seemed as if a wall slammed down between them. Michael had dragged everyone through too much. He was not letting them get involved.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Michael. They're only leverage."

In the distance, Michael saw land. It wasn't much, just a slight mound with a few palm trees on it and a shack. "Is that it? Is that where my friends are, and my Mom?"

"Yep, that's the place. It's not much, but it serves my purposes. Get the lead out, Virgil. I'm eager to jump into the next step of my plan."

Virgil nodded but didn't speak. His eyes slipped away to Michael, who could see the anger and distrust in the older man's eyes. He nodded, silently assuring Virgil that everything would be okay. Virgil nodded slower, indicating he got the message but he wasn't comfortable with the situation. It was odd how he could communicate so well with the man when he never worked with him like Sam did. But then, Virgil and Sam were so similar in many ways, no doubt they'd developed their own silent language that mirrored the one Michael shared with his best friend. If he had time, he might have considered the idea of what kind of a team they might make. Instead, he watched as the island loomed ever closer.

Figures stood on the beach, and Michael instantly recognized Sam's shirt. Through years of hard work Michael learned to control his emotions. Otherwise, he would have grinned and maybe even let a tear or two form in his eyes upon seeing that Sam and Jesse appeared to be okay. Madeline looked anxious but well, and the sense of relief he felt was like a giant wave rolling over him. He had the feeling that if it weren't for the fact that Larry was with them, Sam would have come running into the water to help moor the boat and welcome him to their prison, but he wasn't taking a chance on Larry's volatility. The three waited without moving. Maddie's eyes were wide and surprised when she noticed that Virgil piloted the boat. Sam and Jesse looked ready for almost anything, or at least as prepared as they could be without firearms.

Michael couldn't shake the feeling that they were all in a really bad situation. Larry held all the power in his hands, and biding his time to take over wasn't easy. But that's the kind of waiting Michael was good at, because the payoff was always worth it.

Larry stepped to the bow and leaped off, his dress shoes hit the sand and the grit flowed over the tops and slithered inside, but Larry didn't care. With a grin toward Virgil and Michael, he ordered, "Come on, fellas. Let's have a little reunion."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Elsa's toe tapped as she listened to the recorded message on the other end instructing her to choose an option. She didn't want to talk to anyone but the contact that Michael gave her. She tried that number but got his voicemail. She had no time for voicemail, and neither did Michael, Sam and the others. So she called the CIA directly and this was her reward. Her patience tried and snapping, she hung up the phone with a low growl deep in her throat.

"Information."

"Yes, I'd like the number for the Miami office of the Central Intelligence Agency, please," she said.

"Ma'am, there is no Miami office of the CIA," the operator responded.

"Like hell there isn't." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry, I..." She was interrupted by a light blinking on her phone. "Sorry to have troubled you." Elsa quickly hung up and pressed the button. "Hello, this is Elsa."

"Hello, Elsa. My name is Raines. You called and left a message about Michael being in trouble and needing help?"

"Yes! Yes, I did." She ran through the information she had and said, "Please, time is wasting. They could be at the island by now."

Raines sounded cool and confident as he declared, "It takes time to mobilize an extraction team, and we're spread kind of thin down there in Miami..."

"Michael doesn't need your pitiful excuses. He needs help, and after all he's sacrificed for the Agency, he damn well better get it!" She huffed out a breath. "Fine, if you won't help him, I'll get a team together myself somehow."

"Uh uh, wait! There's no need for that," Raines assured her. "After we get off the phone I'll contact my people in Miami. I'll have a team put together in an hour, and they'll just need a boat to get them there."

"Not a problem. I have a yacht. It's big, but it moves fast."

"Good. You work on getting it ready, and my team will meet you. Where is it moored?"

"At Brickell Key, at the end of Dock C."

"Thank you." Raines paused. "Don't worry, ma'am. We'll take care of this."

"As long as Michael, Sam, and their friends walk away safe, that's all that matters. Mr. Raines, this Larry character is... he's evil. Pure evil."

"I know. Thanks again for your help." Raines ended the conversation.

Elsa pressed a button and said, "Yes, I'd like the yacht ready to sail in an hour. That's right, you heard me. This is an emergency."

* * *

Everything was ready on the yacht, not that they needed much. The craft was fueled and the engine idling when six men approached with purposeful strides. Two wore dress shirts and slacks with flak jackets, and the four behind them were dressed in battle fatigues and their bodies bore all sorts of equipment and weaponry. Waiting on the dock, Elsa watched them approach. The two agents looked as if they wanted the world to think they were confident and on top of things, but Elsa knew body language, and she detected that they were anything but what they wanted to project. Butterflies of anxiety fluttered in her stomach.

The taller one with dark curly hair and a walrus-like mustache said, "You must be Elsa. I'm Agent Bailey, and this is Agent Menaro."

Those names rang a bell in Elsa's head and the memory associated with them was not good. Her instincts were right. If Sam got hurt or killed because of their incompetence, Elsa vowed to rain down her wrath on them. She pasted on a pleasant smile and replied. "Yes, I am, and you're the extraction team that Raines mentioned?"

"Yes, ma'am," Menaro answered. "Well, we're along to supervise. These guys'll do all the heavy lifting. Go on, get boarded." The agents made room for them to pass, and Elsa stepped back and watched them get on the yacht. "There's nothing to worry about, ma'am. We'll bring your pretty little boat back in good shape."

"As long as Sam and the others are okay, that's all I really care about," she said and turned her attention to the men. A look of steel came to her eyes. "But if that Larry is on my ship when you return, he better be in a body bag. I don't want him bleeding on my teakwood deck. Got it?"

Menaro and Bailey raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you got it."

The agents passed and she followed them with her eyes. "Excuse me."

"Yes," Bailey turned.

"I'd like to go along." No wavering, no entreating tone. She wasn't asking, she was telling.

Bailey and Menaro shook their heads in tandem and protested. "No, no way, lady. This could get dangerous."

"Really dangerous," Menaro added. "Civilians have no business in the middle of this."

"But my yacht is a different story."

"If it gets shot up, it won't die." Menaro countered.

Elsa planted her hand on her hip and a gave them a laser stare, and Menaro had to come up with something quick to appease her.

"What my partner meant was that a yacht is expendable. You are not, ma'am." His false, condescending smile only made things worse. "We better get going, Menaro. I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to stay here."

"Fine. But everyone better come back in one piece, along with my yacht."

"You have our word, ma'am," Menaro said. He and Bailey climbed aboard the yacht. The crew member slipped the ropes off the ties, and the craft moved away from the dock.

Elsa watched the back end get smaller as it moved away at a fast pace. This was no pleasure cruise. She knew how dangerous it would be, and didn't need a couple of hack agents to tell her that. Still, she couldn't help feeling that she should have gone along. But what would she be able to do? She wanted to help rescue her man, because she was so afraid that with this team he wasn't going to make it out alive. For a moment she considered calling a mercenary, but she didn't know any, and it would take too long for them to get together and find the yacht. It would be well on its way before she could get any support out there.

With a shuddering breath, Elsa turned away from the dock and walked to a small restaurant and bar near the marina. She sat at the bar and ordered a drink, and she would nurse it until it wouldn't be proper to sit there without ordering another. If necessary, she would order something to eat, just so she could stay until the vessel returned. Her day was shot along with her concentration. She wouldn't be getting any work done that afternoon.

"Hi, yes, I just wanted to let you know that I'm taking the afternoon off." She smiled at her assistant's reaction. "Thanks for noticing, I have been under a bit of stress lately, but hopefully that will end soon. I'll see you tomorrow. 'Bye." She put her phone away and let out a long, deep sigh as she stared into her glass and swished the stick holding two olives and a maraschino cherry. She had a feeling it was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

Jesse, Sam, and Maddie stood on the beach and waited for Larry, Michael and Virgil to get off the boat. They didn't know what to expect, what Larry had up his sleeve this time. None of them felt good about it, whatever the case. When Larry grinned like a Cheshire, that was a bad sign.

"Well, well, looks like everyone survived and is doing fine. See, Michael? I told you they would be safe."

The three stopped under the shade of one of the palms where the captives stood. He nodded at Sam. "You okay, Sam?"

"Just fine, Mikey. It's been kinda hot and sticky, but we're holding up." He turned his gaze on Larry. "What's this about? Why kidnap us and bring us here?"

"I needed you to get to Michael," Larry explained. "I knew he'd drop everything and come running to help his friends. With Fiona in the hospital, that just upped the stakes a bit." Larry smiled again and pulled out a gun. He pushed Michael to stand next to Sam and glanced at Virgil, motioning for him to join them. Virgil obeyed. "Nabbing you three also served another purpose. You see, I'm really, really disappointed in you, Michael. You were my shining star, and I thought you would become just like me, but you failed me. You kept trying to do what's right at the expense of yourself. Look what it's done to you."

Michael glanced down the short line at his friends and mother and returned his attention to Larry. "Other than standing around on a deserted island, I think things turned out okay. I'm working on putting everything back together."

"Yeah. Don't kid yourself, Kid. The second that Strong is done with you, you'll be expendable. You're not gonna make it past that last mission. Trust me."

"Trust you." Michael laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. "Trust you after you've messed with me, almost sent me down a dark path, and now this. You're a real piece of work, Larry." He shook his head. "I can't let you get away with this. You will face the justice that you should have faced a long time ago."

"And how's that gonna happen?" Larry grinned. "Looks like I'm the only one who's armed here at the moment. I hold the gun and the power, Kid." The sound of a small craft approaching distracted them for a moment, and Larry said, "My reinforcement is here." The craft glided in to park next to Virgil's fishing boat, the driver dropped anchor, and their eyes locked on him as he strode to the tip of the bow and jumped onto the sand.

"Nice timing, Strong."

"What's going on here? Larry..."

"We were just discussing Michael's not so bright future if he makes the wrong choice."

"Why don't you just get to it, huh," Sam blurted, annoyed at the two men and their dancing around the reason for all of this. "You know how this is going to work. You offer Mike a job doing black ops, he refuses, and then you shoot us. You can take us all down, but in the end, you're both gonna wind up bleeding on the sand. I guarantee it."

"Isn't it sweet how much confidence you have in your friend," Larry taunted. "You forget that I trained him in real world stealth and close combat. I know what he'll do, and I can counter it."

Sam shrugged and countered, "I don't think you do, but hey, your illusions will be your downfall."

"Can we just get to this," Strong asked with a beleaguered sigh.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you have a tee time this afternoon that you're afraid you'll miss," Larry snapped. He ignored Strong and turned back to Michael. "It's so hard to find good help, isn't it, Kid?"

Michael stood silent, studying Larry, while in his mind he worked out exit strategies, searching for the right one. It was five against two, but Larry and Strong were armed. Since Michael had been working under Strong for the past few months, he knew the man was stressed out and ready to collapse. Larry must have given him one sweet deal to help in corralling Michael and his associates. But why? Before anything happened, he had to know.

"Why are you doing this, Strong," Michael asked as his eyes bored into the other man.

"I think it's pretty obvious. You were the super spy that everyone wanted for their missions, the go-to guy, and you were successful. I wanted to be like you, but I was tied down to support. The last straw was when I was up for promotion to a field position and you were getting burned." He paused and licked his lips, the disappointment showing on his face. "I thought that it was my chance, but in the end someone decided that I wasn't field material."

"So why blame me?"

"I don't blame you, Michael." Strong leveled the gun at him. "I just hate you for being the guy I should have been. I lost everything to this job, and I came away with nothing. Taking out the rogue spy will finally get me the accolades I deserve."

In the distance, behind Larry and Strong's shoulders, Michael saw a large boat tearing through the water coming their way. His gaze slid to Sam and Jesse to his right. They saw it too, but their faces didn't show it. He just knew by the squint of Sam's eyes and Jesse's slow blink that they acknowledged the yacht's arrival. He heard a short gasp come from his mother, so he slipped a hand around her back, giving her a reassuring caress and a squeeze of her shoulder to calm her. He met Larry's eyes and he didn't like what he saw there.

"You don't care whether I agree to go with you or not," Michael said, his voice even and cold. "You just want me. You only want to kill me, am I right?"

"You're my main target, Kid, but hey, I wouldn't mind seeing Sam Axe go down." His grin was just as cold as his words and he aimed the barrel at Sam. "He's given me a lot of grief the past few years."

"Unfortunately, it wasn't enough," Sam grumbled.

Strong was getting impatient. "Come on, Larry, let's just shoot 'em all and get out of here! Even the old lady."

The agent's disrespect of his mother was the last straw. Strong had his head turned as he addressed Larry, and it was the perfect time. Michael released Maddie's shoulder and sprung forward, catching Strong off balance. He fell into the sand and dropped his gun. Unable to go for the weapon, which dropped out of reach, Michael concentrated on choking Strong and getting him to his feet.

At the same moment, Sam lunged forward and dove for the gun. The sand half buried the barrel, but he grasped the butt and rescued it from the grit. A shot rang out and missed him by a couple of inches, followed by another, but he wasn't sure where it had gone. He scrambled to his feet and saw Jesse had Larry in a hold, and Larry was firing wildly at anyone he could. A shot missed Sam and someone cried out in pain. Something wet hit the back of his shirt, and he turned to see Strong with a bleeding hole in his abdomen, as Michael struggled to keep him upright. Sam turned back to Larry and Jesse with the gun raised.

"Drop it, Larry! You don't wanna wind up like your buddy there, do you?" He heard the soft thump of Strong's body hitting the beach.

"It's the end of the line, Larry," Michael said with a calm, almost mournful tone.

By now the yacht's approach created a churning sound and everyone turned to watch it approach the beach. Four heavily armed men stood on the bow, prepared to jump off and take over. Michael wondered if they were friends or not. If they were on Larry's side, he and his friends could just kiss their butts goodbye and wait for the onslaught. A gunshot brought him back to the scene where he could still have some control. Jesse stood back from where he'd been holding Larry, rubbing his wrist, checking his arm. Sam still had the gun raised. Michael gaped when he saw the dead look in Larry's eyes as his body lay crumpled on the sand, and he knew this time it was real.

"What the hell happened," Michael barked.

"I'm sorry, Mike. He pulled a move on Jesse just when I turned around, and he was going for you, so I shot him," Sam replied. "He had another gun, Mike, and he was gonna use it on you."

Michael looked down and saw the weapon in Larry's dead hand. Dark, shiny crimson flowed from a hole in his chest, right where his heart was, staining the sand where Larry lay. Despite all the hardship and grief that Larry handed to him over the years, Michael still felt a lump of sadness in his chest. He knelt on the sand near his body and reached for his carotid. The stillness at his neck was almost too much to believe. He'd faked his death before. Maybe he was doing it again? If he was faking it, with that injury he didn't have long before it became real. No, Michael was convinced that Larry was gone.

"You okay, Mike," Jesse asked.

He looked up at Jesse and gave him a wavering smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Did anyone get hurt besides him and Strong?"

"Nope, that's it. We're all in one piece," Jesse answered.

Michael glanced toward Sam and saw him holding Maddie, her face buried in his shirt. She wasn't crying, which surprised him, yet it didn't. Madeline Westen had proven over the past seven years that she was one tough broad. No doubt it was a sense of relief that drew her to Sam, and his embrace was a show of support because Sam understood that everything had probably been overwhelming for her.

"Hey, is everybody okay," Bailey asked from the deck.

"No way, they sent the two stooges to rescue us?" Sam spoke over Maddie's head as he released her. "If that isn't a sign you need to quit the Agency, I don't know what is."

Michael ignored Sam's statement, but his eyes sparkled and he smiled in agreement. He turned toward the yacht that dropped anchor farther from the other boats and replied, "We're fine. Larry Sizemore is dead. Strong..."

"He's alive, but barely," Jesse reported. "We gotta haul butt and get him back to Miami."

"We'll take him aboard," Bailey said.

In no time, the CIA extraction team loaded Strong onto the yacht. As promised, Larry wound up in a body bag and was placed in the lower deck living area on the floor. Strong was put in a bedroom. Sam knew Elsa would be upset with all the blood, but there wasn't a lot he could do. By the time the yacht was on its way and Virgil followed in his boat, Sam had him semi-stable using the meager supplies he had on board. He didn't hold out much hope of Strong making it back to Miami. He did what he could and went topside to join his friends.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Michael sat on a cushy couch on the aft deck with Madeline. He had an arm wrapped around her and she had hers around his torso and leaned into him. She spoke to him in soft tones. Bailey and Menaro took up a couple other chairs. The extraction team guarded Strong and kept an eye out on the fore and aft decks, binoculars up, looking for danger. After all they'd been through, Sam didn't think that this was all over with Larry's death. If he was really dead. Sam was beginning to wonder if he wasn't immortal, because he always came back after everyone thought there was no way he could have survived. This time, however, he saw it with his own eyes. He touched Larry's lifeless body. No way he was coming back from this. But if Sam had any wooden stakes on board, he would put one through his heart just to be sure.

"Mike, Maddie, you guys want anything?" He didn't want to interrupt, but he imagined that Maddie had to be parched from the day's activities.

Michael answered. "Maybe some water, Sam. Thanks."

"Okay. Anybody else?" He glanced up to the deck where the captain piloted the yacht. Jesse stood with him, surveying the open water with a pair of binoculars.

With everyone's drink requests, Sam went to the galley to fulfill them and came back with a cooler full of water bottles. They all took their fill and sat back to wait for the trip to be over. Time seemed to pass slowly. Other than the dull roar of the motors, there were no other sounds. The passengers were either too tired or too reflective to speak.

"Uh oh, got something coming in fast at eleven o'clock," Jesse announced and pointed toward it.

Michael jumped up from his place on the couch and climbed the steps. He took the glasses from Jesse and spied it. "That's not an Agency boat."

"How can you tell?"

"I don't know. I just have a really bad feeling about it. Plus, they're getting ready to attack." He handed the binoculars back to Jesse, and he spied the boat through them.

Jesse sucked in a small breath when he caught sight of the five men on the boat. Four of them were setting up automatic assault rifles and putting on flak jackets. The driver was intent on his target. "Who do you think they are?"

"I don't know."

"Think they're after you, or Larry?"

Michael replied, "Does it really matter?" He let out a deep sigh. "We better get ready."

The extraction team brought enough firepower for twice the men, so Michael, Sam, Jesse, and the agents Baily and Menaro had weapons. Michael sent Maddie downstairs for her safety.

"Ma, get down on the floor and don't move until I tell you it's okay."

"You want me to go down there with dead Larry?"

His eyes bore an apology as he spoke in a strained, but soft, voice. "Please, Ma. I don't want you to get hurt. Now go, they're coming up on us fast."

She studied the pain in his eyes and she smiled, caressed his cheek, and said, "I'm going. Be careful, Michael. I love you, honey."

"Love you too, Ma. Now please, go."

The first volley of bullets came from the small craft as it zipped around the starboard side of the yacht. Virgil fired on them from his position, but it would be hard for him to shoot and drive at the same time. Michael and Sam worked with the extraction team to take them out, and Bailey and Menaro covered the port side in case they came around.

Maddie, seeing that everyone was occupied and Virgil was having trouble, waved at Virgil and signaled him. He caught her waving arms, and he nodded. Maddie slipped away to the foredeck on the port side, and Virgil raced around the yacht to meet her up front.

"Maddie, what are you doing?" Matching speed and trying to defend himself wasn't easy, and talking to her made it even more difficult.

"Stay where you are!" With more athleticism than she'd displayed in years, thanks to all the water aerobics and yoga, Maddie stepped over the rail and aimed for the aft deck on Virgil's boat. Her feet hit the teakwood and she held out her arms to steady herself.

"Madeline, you shouldn't be here. You should be down below!"

Maddie joined him at the controls and shook her head, the passion for the ones she loved burning in her eyes. "No, Virgil. You need someone to drive this thing while you fight. Go on. I've got this!"

"Do you even know how to pilot a boat?"

"No, but I'll learn fast. Go on!" She hit the throttle and Virgil almost took a backwards somersault off the conning deck. He could only stare at her and marvel at this side of her.

For a moment, he thought she was even sexier than he remembered, and he tempered his smile, turning his thoughts back to defense. Virgil climbed down to the aft deck. He had some weapons stashed below, so he went for those, and by the time Maddie steered the boat around to where the battle raged, he was ready on the bow. He kept himself low, flat on the surface, and he strafed the attacker's boat. They weren't expecting firepower to come straight at them.

Maddie swung around to the attackers' starboard side so they became a terrorist sandwich. Virgil fired on one side, and the crew on the yacht fired from the other. They were down to two men standing on the boat. One of them threw something at the yacht and it stuck to the side. The driver hit the throttle and they began to get away as the other man threw another object at the yacht and it stuck.

"That's C4!" Virgil yelled.

Michael got one more shot at the retreating boat and hit the driver. He slumped over the wheel, turning it and causing the boat to go into a spin. The last man standing was caught in a dilemma. Either he stopped the boat from circling, or he did his job. He grabbed the wheel and took off.

From where they were, everyone saw him raise the detonator and hit the button. Two explosions rocked the yacht, and the blast hit Virgil's boat, throwing jagged debris at him and Maddie. He was still on the bow and couldn't get to her. Something stabbed him in the thigh, and the pain caused him to scream, unable to move even if he wanted to.

"Virgil!" Maddie shut down the boat and hurried to him.

"Madeline, no!"

"Ma, don't shut it down or you'l run into the yacht!" Michael called when he picked himself up from the yacht deck.

Biting her bottom lip, Maddie's eyes scanned the control panel, found the button she sought, and pushed it. The anchor dropped and slowed their forward progress, and she breathed in relief.

The captain stopped the yacht and dropped anchor, and he went below to see what the damage was and how bad. Everyone assembled on the aft deck, and Michael said, "Let's do a head count. How many of us are left?"

"I'm here," Jesse said, jumping down from the conning tower.

"Me too," Sam added.

"We're okay," Menaro said, and he and Bailey joined them. "We lost two guys on our extraction team."

"Okay, with my Ma and Virgil, we didn't do too badly," Michael remarked. He heard the captain's steps and he turned. "Well? Can we make it back to Miami?"

"No chance. There's water coming in, and I'm guessing it'll be about fifteen to twenty minutes before this vessel sinks."

"Lifeboat," Sam said. "Not to worry, we've got a lifeboat and Virgil's boat." He moved to the side and surveyed the scene. Maddie was with Virgil on the bow, assessing his injury. "Maddie, how's Virgil?"

"He's got a big piece of shrapnel in his leg and he's bleeding. He needs to get back to Miami as soon as possible!"

"Hey Virg, how many passengers can you fit on that tub?"

"None right now," Virgil answered, getting up on his elbows to talk to Sam. "We're taking on water. Some of the shrapnel must have hit the boat hard enough to cause a leak."

"Dammit," Sam muttered under his breath before turning back to the others. "Well, we'll have to stuff the lifeboat. It's built for five or six."

"We've got nine if we count Strong, and eleven with Maddie and Virgil," Jesse said. "I'm not liking those numbers."

"Sam, get that boat out while I get Strong." Michael descended the stairs to retrieve the CIA agent while Sam and Jesse worked with the extraction team to open the hatch that hid the lifeboat.

Michael hit the bottom step and discovered that the water was already a foot deep in the lower cabin. He sloshed through it to the front bedroom and opened the door. Strong was still inside and awake. His eyes locked on Michael's, and the pain in his eyes would have struck something inside if Michael didn't have such dark residual emotions inside.

"What, come to finish the job?"

"No, but some of your friends out there tried to. The boat is sinking and we're evacuating. You're coming with us." He moved to the side of the bed and put an arm behind Strong's back.

"Uh uh, I'm staying. Michael... I'm sorry. You were a good agent, and I was a hack. I was stupid enough to fall for Larry's promises, and I let my jealousy of you get in the way of my judgment." He stared into Michael's eyes, his own flooding with desperation. "Please, forgive me."

The water lapped up to the bed surface. "The boat is sinking, Strong."

"And I'm not going with you. I'm not gonna make it anyway, so why drag yourselves down with me?"

Michael hesitated. Strong smiled.

"You know I'm right." His voice began to fade as the strength of speaking became too much for him. "Goodbye, Michael. Get off this boat and back to Miami, and promise me you'll get out while you still can, before the Agency turns you into a guy like me." His head fell back and Michael reached for a pulse. It was still there, but faint.

"Mike, come on! We've got the boat ready!" Sam yelled from above.

Michael swallowed and dropped Strong's upper body on the bed, making a splash. Without another thought, he turned, hurried out of the room and down the hall to the stairs. He passed Larry's body bag floating on the water and it gave him a chill. For a moment, he stared at it. Then he reached out and felt it, wanting to make sure that there was indeed a body in it.

"Mike!"

"I'm coming!" He unzipped the bag and saw Larry's pale, dead face. It was already turning garish colors. Pursing his lips, Michael pushed the body under the water and held it for long enough that if Larry had been alive, he would have struggled against him. But there was no resistance. Larry was finally dead for real, no faking it. A twinge of sorrow hit him, despite the hatred he held for the man. Larry ruined his life, but a part of him would always be grateful for the things he taught him in the field. Without Larry, Michael wouldn't have been the agent he was.

Convinced that Larry had left the earth, Michael released his body. It did not return to the surface. The water was up to Michael's knees when he stood, so he hurried to the deck and was assaulted by the sunlight. He squinted and held up a hand to shield the rays.

"Where is it?"

"Back here, Mike. We'll swing by and get Virgil and Maddie once we're all settled in." Sam turned back to him. "Is Strong dead?"

"Not yet, but he will be soon."

"You didn't shoot him, did you?" Sam stared at him, knowing his friend yet not wanting to think the worst.

"No. I don't think he'll even know what's going on. Quick, let's get off this thing before it goes down."

Sam dropped into the lifeboat and Michael followed him. It was a tight fit with ten people when Maddie and Virgil were brought aboard. No one dared move for fear of tipping the small craft.

"Did anyone send a signal before we got off the yacht," Michael asked, his eyes on the captain.

"Yes Sir, Mr. Westen. I sent out a signal, but I don't know if the Coast Guard got it. I didn't get a response."

Michael nodded. "I heard someone on the radio as I was leaving. They were probably trying to hail us."

"And with no answer, maybe they'll get their butts out here a little faster," Sam suggested with a smile.

"That's what I'm hoping," Jesse quipped. "I like you guys, but man, this is a little too close."

Nervous laughter ran around the lifeboat, then they fell silent.

Menaro broke the reverent silence and asked, "Hey, what happened to our attackers' boat?"

"After that guy placed the last C4, he took control of the boat and set off the explosion rom a distance," one of the surviving team members said. "I'm sure he's long gone by now."

"Kinda surprised he didn't stick around and take us out on this dinghy," Virgil suggested. He moved and winced, and Maddie held him tighter to herself while she stroked his face and whispered words of comfort.

"He's got a point. We're like fish in a barrel here," Menaro groused.

"Well, if we get sucked down with the yacht, we won't have to worry about it," Bailey snapped.

"Guys, button it," Sam ordered, and the look on his face told them they better obey or they would be volunteering to swim for help.

The lifeboat drifted closer to the yacht, following the current. The commandos took oars and rowed it away while the others watched the yacht sinking lower in the water, its sides half gone under the surface.

"Maybe if the CG's get here in time they can tow it back to port," Sam mused aloud. "If not, Elsa's gonna kill me."

"Why? You're not the one who commandeered it to rescue us," Jesse said with a smirk and a glance at Bailey and Menaro.

"Yeah, that's right." Sam's face brightened with a dimpled smile. "You haven't lived until you've felt the wrath of Elsa. Be afraid, my friends. Be very afraid."

BOOM! Heads whipped around, and they witnessed pieces of the yacht shooting into the air and outward. The rest was a ball of flame that incinerated some of the pieces while the others rained down around the survivors.

"What the hell..." Sam muttered.

"Who did that," Michael barked. "Who blew up the yacht?"

"Not us," the team member said.

Bailey and Menaro shook their heads.

"Strong must have done something," Jesse suggested. "One last ditch effort to make sure Larry was really dead, maybe?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Michael stared at the remains, which not only ensured Larry's death and sacrificed Strong's life, it also served as a big beacon for the Coast Guard to find them. Now all they had to do was wait and hope that the lifeboat would hold out long enough. Water sloshed in the bottom, but whether that was from debris splashing water inside or a slow leak caused by overloading... Michael didn't want to think about that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The hot sun beat down on them and the heat from the flaming yacht reached out, trying to sap their energy. The team rowed them further away, but not too far. The yacht torch would help the Coast Guard find them, so they couldn't stray too far. Sam, Jesse, and the CIA agents used their hands to bail out the boat. It was definitely taking on water, but slowly. The only advantage they had was that the ocean was unusually calm, with gentle swells versus breaking waves.

Sam returned to his seat next to Michael and spoke low into his ear. "Mike, I don't think this boat is gonna hold out with all of us in it. We've got life jackets. Some of us could go over the side and tread water until help arrives."

"I'll volunteer," one of the commandos said with a thin smile.

Sam gave him a look and returned his attention to Mike. "Well, what do you think? You, me, Jesse, and this guy, and his buddy go into the water, and Maddie and Virgil can stay here with Bailey, Menaro and the Captain."

"Nonsense, Mr. Axe. I'm going too," the Captain said as he reached for a life preserver under the seat where Maddie and Virgil sat. He held up another, and the soldier took it. "We can hang around the lifeboat, but don't try to get back in. It'll go down for sure."

"Hopefully it won't be for too long," Sam said.

"I'm not thrilled with the idea, but if it'll keep the boat afloat, let's do it," Michael said. He pulled out three life preservers for Sam, Jesse and him. Everyone put them on and slipped off the sides into the water. The activity caused the boat to teeter, but their hands held it until it settled. "Alright, hands off," Michael ordered, and the boat stayed steady while they backpedaled away but kept a protective perimeter.

The water was cool, and if they had to stay in it for hours, it could become dangerous. Michael wasn't even thinking about sharks or other predators. Hypothermia could set in. He glanced at his watch and mentally calculated.

"We've been stranded for about a half hour," Sam said. "It could be worse."

"I wish we had a flare gun," Jesse muttered as he treaded water next to Sam.

"It wouldn't work any better than the flaming boat," Michael replied. "We just have to hang in there. Someone will be along soon."

"Sixth sense, Mikey?"

"No, I think I hear a helicopter." He scanned the blue sky and puffy clouds overhead. "There, at one o'clock. See that blob?"

All eyes turned to where Michael pointed, and indeed the dark blot on the sky seemed to be looming larger. Even if it was an airplane, surely someone would see the fire and call for help. He could hear the rhythmic thumping of the blades, and he knew that it was a helicopter. As it approached at a good clip, it became apparent that it was a chopper. It slowed, and the sun glinted off the side as it turned to make a wide circle above them. Michael had never been so happy to see the colors red and white before.

"Help is here," Maddie shouted with joy. "See, Virgil? It's gonna be alright. The Coast Guard is here!"

A voice from above shouted over a speaker. "Hang on folks, we'll get you out of the water in a couple minutes. A Coast Guard boat is on the way to assist."

A cable with a basket came down, and the men in the water grabbed and held onto it. Michael directed his words at Bailey and Merano. "You two, get Virgil in the basket."

Maddie moved out of the way, and the two men picked up Virgil. He was heavy, so they jostled and repositioned him so he wouldn't fall, but the boat teetered violently.

"Hey, hey, watch it!"

"We're trying, Westen. Sorry we're not all super experienced in water rescues like you," Menaro shot back. He and Bailey inched closer to the basket and dumped Virgil inside none to gracefully. A soft "oof" came out of him.

"Geez, don't quit your day jobs, fellas," Virgil groaned. The basket started to rise. Maddie stood and clasped is hand for a moment, and he squeezed it. "Don't worry, darlin'. We'll be together again soon."

Maddie was next. She rode up in the basket, followed by the extraction team members. The cruiser appeared and a boat picked up Bailey and Menaro, Michael, Sam and Jesse. The helicopter left the scene with the others, and the Coast Guard decided to let the boat burn itself out. The vessel turned away from the scene and made its way back to Miami. During the two hour trip, everyone picked up from the water was checked out and questioned.

Considering the seriousness of the ambush, they all kept their mouths shut about what happened on the island and how the boat came to be burning in the ocean. It was a simple mechanical breakdown that turned into an inferno, and the Coast Guard had no reason to believe that anyone was lying. By the time they reached the base, Virgil had been taken to the hospital and Maddie went with him. The team was nowhere to be found.

"What happened to your guys, Bailey," Sam asked as the five men stood outside the base.

"They had their orders to return to HQ," he replied, and a slow smile spread across his face. "One of 'em came back with a car. Sorry, guys. That sedan has less room than that lifeboat." He gave them a quick salute and he and Menaro approached the car.

Menaro shot over his shoulder, "It's been fun!"

"As fun as a pit of scorpions," Jesse shot back. He grumbled low and looked at Sam and Michael. "I don't know how those guys manage to stay in the Agency. Mike, if you don't take that as a reason to get out, man..."

"Don't worry. I'm already writing my resignation letter in my head." Michael grinned. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and frowned. It was completely soaked and ruined by the sea water. "Anybody got a working phone?"

"No need." Sam grinned. "I called Elsa from the rescue boat, and she's coming to pick us up. As a matter of fact, there she is." He jutted his chin toward the SUV coming their way with Elsa at the wheel.

Elsa stopped and parked, and she almost flew out the open door and slammed into Sam. Their lips met in a passionate reunion and he held her close, his hands touching her as if he hadn't seen her in years rather than days. Michael and Jesse watched, uncomfortable by the amount of affection.

"Think we should just get a taxi," Jesse asked.

"I think they're almost done."

Sam pulled away from her lips and studied her face. "I wasn't sure I'd see you again. I love you, Elsa."

She planted a quick kiss on his lips and replied, "I love you too, Sammy. I'm so glad you came back safe." Her eyebrows rose. "You are okay, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Mike and Jesse are fine too. Now, why don't we go home?"

"Where's the yacht?" Elsa looked past them and squinted at the port. Only a couple of Coast Guard vessels were moored there.

"Well..." Sam hesitated. "That's a long story. I'll tell you on the way home."

She took in a deep breath. "It got blown up, didn't it. Didn't it! Sam, how could you let that happen?"

"Honey, it wasn't my fault! It was the guys trying to kill us."

Elsa wouldn't listen. She whirled on her heel and strode to the SUV, not caring if anyone followed. Sam glanced at Michael and Jesse.

"You know, maybe Jesse's right. You better take a cab, 'cause I've gotta get Elsa cooled down before she goes nuclear."

"Will you be okay, Sam?" Michael looked worried.

"Yeah, you're forgetting, I know how to tame a wild Elsa." He winked. The engine roared and Elsa laid on the horn. "Uhoh, gotta go. See you guys later. Carlito's for lunch tomorrow?"

"If you survive," Michael said and he and Jesse nodded in agreement. "Just don't tell her too much, okay?"

"Don't worry, Mike. I'll straighten this out and have her eating out of my hand again. Just wait." He smirked, turned and walked toward the SUV.

"Now that takes some courage," Jesse breathed. "Dealing with Elsa after all he's been through. It's times like this I'm glad I'm still single." He turned to Michael. "So, what now?"

"Let's go find a bar. I could use drink."

Jesse laughed. "I just want to get in some shade and down a nice cold one. Then I'll worry about how to get home."

Michael and Jesse walked out of the base and down the street. The base attracted bars and restaurants, so they picked a restaurant where they wouldn't get too many looks in their disheveled clothes. He should have been trying to get in contact with the CIA offices, but today Michael would dip his toes into the waters of freedom, try it out, and see if he could find some peace there. But he was kidding himself. The only way he could truly give up that life is if Fiona would come back to him. As he and Jesse toasted to their survival, Michael added a silent hope that he could win her heart again, and he downed the glass in one long gulp.

"Woah, pace yourself, man."

"Don't worry about me, Jesse. I'm going to be fine."

Larry was right, it was the end of the line: for Larry, Michael's career. He should have felt a sense of loss, but he experienced nothing other than relief and excitement over the future and what it might hold. It was scary, intimidating even, but he couldn't wait to start.


End file.
